Tag: grass

Wind Swept Growl

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Loud depth of wind
Sending a sliver of the moon
Into long blades of grass
Bellowing Autumn’s warm choice of a day

How dare minutes of this season
Fall away so effortlessly
Like the glimpse of a red lit night sky
Following in Sun’s same footsteps

Test not growing darkness’s patience
For caught you shall be if thy tarry lasts
Any longer than a deep breath of sorrow
For soon, that lone Mars shall break the starless trance

Last evening desires fade
As Coyote wakes to prowl
And guarding this fleece lined flock
A great Pyrenees longs his stretch and growls

Flies

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After a while the flies find you
Sinking into skin
Like love letters I’m waiting for.
I try my passive eye
With a lazy wind
Covering my imagination
While three ewes
Run circles,
Their heads down
Wishing for longer grass to hide in.
But my exhaustion
Just watches two blackflies
One on each wrist
Searching for that perfect place
To bite in
Just like the lover
I’m waiting to hear from.
My presence will outweight
My disregard here,
Just as the sun knows
It outweighs the wind
And there are no flies who care less.

Ungracefully Lacking

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Insight has lost its worth
For it no longer blesses thy journey;
It is a burden, a hex,
Pointedly accusing
And draining all chai.

How often does it rain?
Even cold grass
Does not sprout green
For it has lost its vision,
Quest departed long ago
Sun turned into mold.

Gravel roads
And sombre trees
Who no longer speak;
Dormant, sleeping, away
Unto this vision
Cold and ungracefully lacking.

Healing Is Still

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When the streets bleed
With vibrating violence
We know that only scares the guilty
Hanging like
The victims they laid
Aside in their greed;
Healing shall still be far away.

When grass grows
Over crumbled ruins
Abandoned and exposed,
Rebels of a forgotten war
Who plundered all its worth
Relaxing in their misdeeds
Shall fever in the night
And visions reminding them
Healing shall still be far away.

When flags tear at their seams
Weakened in the wind
Salt licking at the sides
Of metal catastrophes
Blowing weeds that take control
Shall struggle upon the ground
Understanding their due;
Healing shall still be far away.

When the last engine
Seizes from strain
Deep in jungle rain, overgrown
And wildcats become predator
Most feared and most bestowed
Vines and trees, all wide and tall
Laying over all regrown
Healing shall still be far away

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Early Morning Hour

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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)

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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)

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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.