Whistling a tune
I pulled a flower
To look into
What I had always
And there beyond
What I could explain
Sat a curious Chipmunk
Who whispered to me
A secret song
I had known
For very long
Which made me think
I had to look
Many more flowers.
How do I succeed at following rhythms?
Time passing while my heart beats
With unspoken visitors enabling
Each pitter-patter footstep leading
Into a little hole I don’t know how to close any more.
I watch bluejays easily get mad at
Unflinching sun poking through spaces in a wild canopy
And woodpeckers at ease as I whistle a hello,
Vigorously and meticulously rummaging through
Every year of hard protection.
Will I find answers in these rhythms?
I dance in firelight imagining all of my ancestors
Which brings comfort to my solitary circle
But never ceases evoking deep pangs;
My wild soul, accompanied.
To breathe the first breath of ocean air
Deep into my starving lungs
As sun dips down to half past seven
I realize the tide’s becoming.
Even with my toes exposed
I find salt refreshingly tickling my nose,
Seagulls cry in celebration
And driftwood leads me forever on.
I roll my pants to half mast
And whistle to a little snail
Who’s slowly off to go out sailing
And I, my eye, to the clear blue sky.
Into my ears did whistle harmony
Not of my mind or in my thoughts
But wind, easy wind to fill me up
With dear, sweet oxygen.
And to my friend I inhaled in
The deepest breaths I could bring
To fill my lungs so full, I smiled.
For my liberty was brought to me
So free my mind, so free my body,
So free my soul to float on to
A cloud, where I’m with you.
A whistle came and lay beside me
Speaking of ancient ruins,
A valley of lore that had no rhymes
And grass that always grew.
It wasn’t long before I strained
To hear my longing tune,
Played to me from afar
Guided by my star.
I never knew what lasted long
– My feet forever wary –
Save grace, respect, trust and truth,
Tomorrow I’m on my way.
Upon the brook I sat a while
Whistling my long & lone tune,
I thought I heard a critter come
But it was just the moon.
It echoed off the water so clean
That my heart lept at the thought.
And soon my mind was back again
Amidst this lone lagoon.
In my tarry I carried a pack
Stuffed with my new booty.
Not filled with random this and that,
But of my especial boon.
I held it close to my lone heart
As I breathed in the vista,
And just as I approached depart
I was greeted by a loon
Who whispered my heart a calm.
I knew once more, with no regret
That as I sat and whistled along
It would be time to go home soon.
Mimic my every cry
As I let you whistle low
I’m ready for the hunger
I’m ready for the feast
Left alone at the crossroad
Pack all filled with air
A dollar too much down
Dusty register’s golden crown
Felt hard in my left
Checked the other one again
Heard my freight-train-a-coming
Lookin the other way now
Long road comin hard
Off to another day
Felt the executioners tail
Felt the grip to mother-me
Ramblin rose staring at me
My eyes gone, going back understood
Creeking sleep covering me
Lurching stops frightening me
My bag and me settling in
Easy train rumbling on
Lost my voice miles ago
Keeping my whistle down low
How much has been said about what we do find
Deep beneath the solid layers of pine
We rake and we groom, shovel and we dig
Perhaps it’s all in the shape of our rig
The ending is the beginning is the same in the rain
The trollys will continue, in circles hardly vain
Then here, with the lot of it, we sit and we pout
Trying to figure out the riddles of our gout
Even with the long lines, and bustling desires
Have we ever found a whistle blown not by a squire?
So then we do perfect that which we’ve had all along
The deepest and darkest and lightest of songs
It’s one and the the same
Simply in vain