Early Morning Hour

In the early morning hour
Wind seems to lay down
Rising sun sets out to warm
Every frosty blade of grass
And when my horse is saddled up
I mount my trusty steed to roam
Every bit of our home range
To find my cows and learn the land
For my life I’m setting out
Warm coffee in the morning
Another day to go about
In this early morning hour.

Tears Over A Sickle Bar (day 3218)

I tried to love you
With your broken ways
Spent the hours
Repairing your fractures
And took the time
To slow down
Listening to your hum
As you rocked back and forth
In the long sun
Struggling away
At cutting
Grass into hay.
But your fractures
Broke into cracks
And left me lurching
Struggling away
Too many times
To keep heart strong
Determined to make it work.

Reworking (day 3202)

I’ve roamed here before
Last years summer heat
Lazing about the full grass
Cautioning the flies
That swell when the breeze dies down.
These cows they look familiar
But the birds, they’re all new
They have a shrill
That reminds me of chicks
Taking flight for the first time.
I’ll watch the leaves blow
Flashing me their white underbellies,
A reminder that even trees
Have a sensitive side
And to mind where I choose to reap
So that even the Sun knows
I have heeded its cry.

Growth vs. Growth (day 3145)

For what used to be technology
– Figments of built up society –
Has fallen down,
By our own will
Freedom seems such a funny phrase.

But then to look
Upon the birds
Returning from the South,
Weaving and spinning
Joyeous beginning
Of Spring is in the air.

All could change
All can change
Of our built up digital world:
Roads and electric poles,
City sidewalks set ablaze,
Consumption tracks
Buried deep
In plastic bags we reap.

But then to look
Just look at the greening abound!
See the buds popping
See grass growing
Watch as Sun warms the earth.

Motion Soundtrack (3088)

Like a joke
I have been replaying a soundtrack
Flickering through my brain,
Like still grass
Clear for me,
Better than most,
But still untrue
Amidst all that blue
Canopy of daylight.
Forgetting these distractions
Made a tear fall
For my ideals
Had become enveloped
And unjustly packed
Just as reverb plays me
Through a symphony
I have recalled my stereo
To monophonic simplicity
And begun to slow
This motion and flow.

So Goes and Wind (day 3071)

With my wind I have fallen in
With little tufts of grass
Whom stand so brave and tall
Against the snow, so cold.
I have blown across the whitescape
As light shades of brown
As dirt and ice that rip apart
The crisp memory of sun.
So goes the traces of my finger
Deep within the hallow
Sunken to my melting cheek bone
That grips against the snow.
So goes the sweet angel of my memory
Who has left me like a broken fire
That I have no more kindling for
Though I remember every splinter
That has sunken to my soul.