Weathered (day 2209)

Wished I was a saint
Took my cane with me to work
Held on to a weathered hand
Was caught out in the rain

Left a symbol in the earth
Growth that clouded all designs
Held on to a weathered hand
Ate my heart out in the sun

Giving to little was my lonely grave
Lest beggars break in to settle my nerves
Held on to a weathered hand
There I lay saddened by time

Ode to Morning Birds (day 2182)

Sitting here with inward thoughts
I’m drawn into a jungle
Roaring all around I hear
So many songs of earth
I hear birds calling each other
From North, South, and the West
I hear distant ducks searching in earnest
And chickens sorting out their rows
I see the poplars shaking morning breeze
And imagine how they’re filled
With little birds so cheerful
Each one calls at intervals
That synchronizes my heart
And fills my morning ritual
With a symphony of song
That asks of me so little in return
And I float away in dream.

Patterns (day 2161)

When every part of patient patterns
Seem to fit inside the other
A symbiotic matrimony, of sorts,
Fills us up each day
Like sun that orbits around and around
And the moon, just biding its time
Mycelia strings together the dots
Connecting you to me
And sun to earth and rain to mud
And seed to harvest it too!
So down we go, deep inside
To sprout one million times amore.

Dusk (day 2158)

This is the spark that sets seed
A jubilant setting free
A sunset beyond every sea
With a new day the grain that grows.

And if each sign these clouds do point
Expose a pasture fit for rose
Should a foot that heals the earth
Lay thin dust that bitter burns?

Nay, each dusk a seat be found
To hold each glass, a little worn
A ritual many should be warmed
At last, sweet moon, a gray cocoon.

Caveman (day 2129)

I was influenced by a caveman
A landscape with two carved rocks
And fire to keep me awake at night.

We were inseparable
Two rhinestones in a yellow cup
Dead blind in middle earth
Losing daylight hours
In our metronome;
Lessons influenced
By a better man.

Home again, paid again
Leaving marks upon little stones
Giving a poem to memory
On a midnight string and there you are
A stonemason and a better man.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXVII (day 2021)

(part XXXXVI)

“I am not going anywhere,”
I swooned to my love as she lay beside me
My fingers slowly playing with her hair,
“But should you decide we should go
I would be there right with you, dear,
I would be with you to the stars
I would climb with you each jagged cliff
I would help, my hand a ladder
And send you the lightness
My heart stole from you near.

“If you should want to walk to the end
I would not tire of the steps we would take
Beside you, I would gather fuel
For each night’s fire I should tend
I would count every star we would see
In the dark night’s blossom
From the distance here on earth
Upon camp I would make for you.

“And if you wanted to be close
I would strip my very skin for you
To open up and climb within
My fingers play for you
My heart beats for you
My legs would cover you
In those close thoughts of the night
As your desirous heart beckoned to become one
Like our fingers entwined
Like trees amidst forest
Like She-Wolf and He-Wolf
I’d be your every movement, repeat,
I’d be every moment your grace.

“Should you want the moon in your eyes
I’d climb every tree up high
To find that old man so gray
I’d coax him over to stand bright
Proud to glow as he did show
Should I bring him home just to you
With a lasso I’d have him packed
For each time I looked in your eyes
You, me, and the moon,
Sail forever in every swoon.

“And as you want to stay every day
Right here, beside me,
Upon this very hide here
I savor every breath I take
Of the aura you shower so
I begin every sentence
With your name on my tongue
With your skin upon my fingers dancing
With your warmth taking me
Past the sun and past the sea
Ten thousand dreams and back
And every moment of your desire
My dreams to be for thee
Till my bones can be for you
Support for everything you do
Like the support you are for me.

part XXXXVIII

Moon at Midnight – Part III (day 1977)

(part II)

When I saw it, I slowly pulled my arrow from its quiver
A practice as natural to me as walking
Without hesitation I had one full meal,
A warm meal that hadn’t been had in two days
My diet primarily consisted of berries and roots
So plentiful on this wild land
But frequently supplemented with unsuspecting small game.

Before my knife entered the belly of my meal
I thanked its Gods for their offering
For helping to sustain me on my journey
For helping to return the vigor into my body
So necessary for survival
And with every bite my heart and soul filled
With a return to this earth
And I was reborn again, new.

It is eerie the silence after a feast
Such powerful voices circling around
Escaping, collecting, gathering, burning
It’s like a dizzying kaleidoscope
Caught up in a whirlwind
Mixing with my own heart screaming so loud
I walked along in silence for quite some time
Thinking about the changing seasons
And the cold that wasn’t far behind.

It comes naturally for me as a human
To push on, push forth
Push to get to a destination known
But when I see my next camp for the night
I know it without hesitation
And sometimes it comes before
Warmth of midday sun has a chance
To burn its brightest spark
And I take off my pack, sit down crosslegged
And observe the land all around.

I learned long ago that land speaks to me,
It tells me what is behind that tree
And what is under that bush,
It shows me where to look
Before what I’m looking at is there
The land shows me how wind swirls
And leaves bend off of branches
It shows me the light tapping
Of two giants married by force
And light nutshells crackling as they fall
From heights stored in safety.

There is nothing else that is as perfect
As these moments of pure clarity
Yet behind every breath
Reins the loneliness such a journey entails
Which the heart never expects
But always knows is there
And I pulled in this deep sadness
With my breath as it flowed
Memories that showed me how to move
Like a teacher that had kind patience
As I sat as a pupil learning.

part IV

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Spoons of Sorrow (day 1959)

When I walk into an empty room
When I reach my palms for the sky
As essence, I’m a ghost
And sunrise brings tomorrow
With ten thousand spoons of sorrow.

I am a prophet in a rose
With two hands tied by thorns,
Fence posts painted white
Along dew kissed morning lawns.

When I sit amidst thousand year old trees
When I wave crookedly in heaven’s winds
My heart becomes a dead leaf
Integrating so effortlessly into a path
Dust to soil to earth to spring.

So long shall my stalk bend
Two ends of a hemp string crossed,
Seeds falling on gray wood
And harvest moon is my birth.

Knee Jerkin’ Jamboree (day 1942)

This sunshine in my sky so high,
Oh Lordy, sit down and sing me a song today
I’ve got little dancers raising glasses in my heart
And the whole town’s coming down
For a good ol’ knee jerkin’ jamboree!

Have you thought about bees on a Sunday?
Bending fullness of a flower top
Slowly wrinkling it’s cheeks saying: ‘Hi!’
Waving lazily in the afternoon sky
Cause Oh Boy! I’ve sure got some cheer!

You know, I sure know this old barn door,
And today there’s nothing more I could want;
Squeaky hinges and drying wood,
And the smell of it all goin’ back to earth.
What’s happening to my soul? It’s a damn good day.

Ode to the Apple (day 1914)

I walk the orchard with eyes so wild
Heart so strong and free
I look towards where you fall from
Then bob back to where you’re from.

A-joy I see as each new leaf
Spreads out with all it’s cheer
And my heart leaps at every blossom
An orb of what’s setting free.

Into my hand I hold on to thee
Like miracle of child birth
Soon to be returned to earth
My footsteps weave through the orchard.

Ode to the Apple by Ned Tobin