Gates (day 3136)

You guarded the gate
Like Sphynx afar
Stoned and vacant
And mighty imposing
Like a thundering Lord
With a wish for more
Yet slowly people
Fell away
As bricks built upon
A ragged foundation
Of imposed rules
And stolen goods
Will always crumble
Until at last
It broke
Hinges and all
Leaving each pebble
In your wake
A memory
Of a truth once shared

Path (day 3121)

Did you think about the path
That took your shoes
From there to here?
Pebbles and roots
That touched your feet
And gave you
Little messages
That reminded you of a dream.
I woke today
With my clear dream
Where I watched
The ball of your foot
Circulate through
The forest so calm
And every step
That you took
Brought you silently to me.

Toiling Shuffle, Softer (day 1967)

Each shoulder I shift, shuffle,
Creaks with passion left un-stoked.
A winding splinter soaking
In the full moon’s setting sun,
A twisted root dancing
With leaves of another season.
Little whispers call out my name,
And it’s feeling a lot like rain.

So this path goes on,
Leaves fall to the tune of a breeze
And guesses punctuate each heave
With uneven ground, frolicking madly
Amidst pebbles and sticks
That grow wilder, fonder,
Of screw-top frameworks
Settling into the pocket
Of our toiling shuffle, softer.

Into the Glen (day 1558)

As I sat in patience at a corner of my walk
Two oddly shaped pebbles looked back at me
As if saying: “All is well, all is good, have peace my brethren.”
To my surprise, illicitly, a tree sprouted up about.
It’s trunk was wide, a perfect brown peeking out from vertical alcoves
That suspended my thought – my memory – upon our mother.
I took notice of curled leaves brushing against my knees,
In sweet peace, in tranquility; gentle cooing of a romantic lover.
Her sweet embrace casually led me down sloping grass to a calm pond
Tickled by weeping willows and lily pads saying: “My, what a fine day, stay a while.”
So I stayed. I watched loons and swans swim endless loops – mindless to my observant eyes,
Finally settling on the same well kept slopes I rested upon,
Filled with little paths serving the gentle commotion.
At once I noticed clambering of little soldiers
Setting into order all disorder in a huff and bite.
So I took my patience back a padded path to where I had found my pebbles to bid them a good day
Carrying on, all the better, for my foray into the glen.

Puppy’s Breath (day 1455)

Memory had the young lad locked into heartache
Said a long face into still waters, messy brown hair.
Even puppy’s breath flowers, scattered about un-special pebbles
That were delicately delivered by glacial giants in a spring long ago,
Couldn’t lick the apparitions floating about.
Mounting piles of she-loves-me-she-loves-me-not
Couldn’t dare stop to observe silent friends soaring high above,
Or recognize it wasn’t what was left without.
But the great deal of compromise left standing tall
Two men in full militia calling: go within.

The Gift (day 135)

Squabbling Quibian!
What have you found there?
Is it a new form of currency?
A rare gem; a gift from the Emperor?

How you cradle it like a lover
Lost deep at sea
There is something nostalgic
In your eyes I see

A pebble, dear Quibian?
A stray rock here you hold?
Found amongst the leaves
On your long walk home?