Look up

It is not difficult 
To forget to look up
To stop the tasks of the day
To enjoy the delights of the day.
Morning dances all around us
Dawn sneaks and creeps up
Wondering if she can tiptoe by
And we, none of us notice at all.

Starfish

Sometimes I want to rail at life
Cry and call life names
Rant and scream and kick the walls
Of life and reality and death.

I want to chant along with others
The chant of unfairness to all
Voices in unison crying
Though no one stops to listen

Perhaps instead I'll just stand
Shoulder to shoulder with humanity
Stand silently in rows and rows
Golems waiting, unable to speak

Or maybe one day I'll decide
Think on these many things
 And step aside, out of the crowd
To throw a starfish into the waves

Old Man's Treasure

Feels so good sometimes just to sit
To daydream, to stop and think
Ponder, wonder,reminisce, remember
Look, smell, listen, taste and drink.
Memories are an old man's treasure
That young men store away.
Stacked and forgotten till some distant day
Hidden mind deep,unknown, unheeded
Cluttered, unwanted, not really needed
To one day appear
Old friends.

Bee robber

The buzz of angry bees
Around my  face and head
Smoky, chokey business
Protected, hot and sweaty
They don't know I've waited long
To rob them and taste their honey.

Time

The world still turns, days melt into night
Seasons follow one then another
Young men dream, Young girls wait
The aged sit, remember
It must be so, has ever been
Time slinks and slithers
Just out of grasp
Wispy tendrils to remember.

Dark and Damp Morning

It is a morning that is still dark and damp
The air is so very cool for a Summer day.
In the darkness there is no birdsong
They've not yet awakened to brighten the day.
 In the distance there is the sound of traffic
Men and women already rushing from home.
Minds wrapped around all they must accomplish
But it is a morning that is dark and damp.
 The world is still quiet, nature still rests.
The grass clings to the drops of rainwater
That so freely fell during the short summer night
Soon the sun will burn away the excess.
But the grass drinks quickly and deeply in the dark.
 Lights are blinking on in distant windows
Coffee is surely brewing, children are being roused.
Loud yellow buses will command the roads.
Little ones will appear hump-backed in the distance
Shouldering backpacks and talking loudly
Hiding their nervousness on the second day of school.

But it is still a dark and damp morning.
Nature still sleeps, waiting for the sun to slowly climb
Inch by inch into the empty eastern sky.

Time and Mortality

The old man sat on his porch quiet in the dusk
Examining his mortality like a treasured pocket watch.
Carefully turning it over and over in his hand
Feeling the weight of the watch chain,
Opening the back to see the inscription
Secrets known and read only by him.
Watching the hands go round the dial
Seeing his face in the face of the watch
Knowing some not so distant day
The watch would tick for the last time.
As the hands climbed toward midnight
He wound the watch once again
Looked at the time once more, satisfied
And put his mortality back for another day.

Before I Go

At times in the deep of night
As I lay in bed and wait for sleep
My mind wander to those precious things
Toys and tidbits of the mind
Set aside to be bumped and nudged
Picked up and played with quietly
Where no one sees or can steal.
Sweet kisses from my darlin'
My baby's hand wrapped around a finger
The sound of Daddy callin' "Supper".
The almost forgotten memory
Nudged into a corner but finally found
Of layin' in bed an' hearin' womenfolk
Cookin' breakfast in the early mornin'.
The salty pleasure of country ham
Big ol biscuits covered with gravy
Boiled coffee so dark an' hot
Wakin' me up with that aroma.
The taste of sweet watermelon
Drippin' down my chin and neck
Or that burnin' taste of moonshine
Shocked that it wasn't water
Surprised that there Mason jar
So cold and covered with dewdrops
Could choke a little nosey boy.
Feelin' mud between my toes
Sand rushin' from under my feet
As the tide pulls back and away.
Maybe wadin' in the creek
In the middle of the holler
Feet a slippin' an slidin'
As brother and I searched
Liftin' each rock to catch crawdads.
Smellin' sheets and ancient quilts
Fresh off the clothesline.
Waitin' to drift off but thinkin'
Knowin' there are more days behind
Than before me now.
Wonderin' about what happens
When my Father calls me home.
Hopin' I can pause as I go
And bump and nudge
Pick up and play with
Those wonderful memories
Just one more time
Before I go.

Questions

Weigh and measure, weigh and measure
Dig through memories and search for meaning
Stop and smile at forgotten places
Hidden treasures buried deep within you
Snatch up and caress timeless moments
Reminders of lovers long time gone
Grasp and grope for fast moving glimpses
Seen from the edges of your memories/\.
Ask the deep questions, find some reason
Who I am and who I was.

The Birds Still Sing

The sky is muddy gray
With threats of a stormy day
But the birds still sing.
On the horizon looking east
The sun cannot break through
Yet in the trees birds still sing.
In the distance far west from here
Dark clouds wrestle and roil
Don't fret, just listen, the birds still sing.

Are There Really Dragons?

A little boy who is not yet a man sits on the edge of a porch
Playing with a handful of cars and trucks and plastic heroes
He is running hard hot and little boy sweaty and still full of go
Waiting for lunch since his Mama called him home.
Though he plays quietly, his open mind wanders
Up the hillside and into the shadows of tall pines.
Up there where the pine needles have made open pathways
Clear for a little country boy to wander and play.
"Mama," he calls through the open kitchen window
"Mama, tell me what do dragons eat? 
She smiles at the question and thinks just for a moment
"Why sheep, cattle and goats and prize horses, I think.
I've even heard that some of the worst eat sweaty little boys!"
He thinks and ponders on his Mama's reply for ever so long.
"No they don't, Mama.  That ain't right at all."
As they talk back and forth she laughs to herself at his imagination
How wonderful it must be to wander the woods and dream of such.
How innocent and a bit silly to think of a question like that.
"Mine has been eating skunks and a little coal to keep the fires burning
What bad breath he has, Mama.  How is smells when he burps."
"I'd be careful now son." she smiles and calls through the window
"Remember, they eat sweaty little boys" Mama added.
"Little boy furrowed his brow and thought long and deep
"Mine don't.  Mine eats skunks and a little coal, Mama"
"Hush son, stop being silly and come in here and eat.
There are no dragons, they don't eat skunks or coal
AND I am sure they don't even eat little sweaty boys.
Get that nonsense out of your head and eat.  Chores are waiting."
That sweaty little boy slips in through the screen door which slaps at his back
"Are you positive there ain't no dragons?  They ain't real?"
With the air of grownup knowledge wrapped confidently around her
She turns and faces her son, "There are no real dragons. They are not real."
Trusting her word, he washes his hands, clears his head and sits to eat.
Up on the hillside, yonder in the mountain just past the pines
A lonely dragon sits on its haunches and listens carefully.
As the little boys clears his mind and sits to eat the dragon sighs
His breath as he sighs smells a little of skunk and of coal.
Carefully he climbs to the ridge of the mountain
Looks over the valley on the other side of the ridge.
With sadness in his eyes he looks over his shoulder
Down through the pines and to the cabin below
Where a little sweaty boy, still full of go
Grew up a little too much, a little too soon.
Turning his long scaly neck and head forward
Nose into the wind to smell the scents of the world.
He spreads huge patchwork wings to test the winds
And flies away with careful strokes that lift him high and away.

Magic Dances in the Trees

 





Listen to the hidden magic among the trees
Hidden just over there they play and sing.
Magical things, wondrous things dance.
They dance and sing and laugh happily
Not bound by the rules of mere mortal men.
Can't you hear them, can't you see
Or have you grown too old, too stodgy?
Do you even believe there is magic
That fantastic things play there in the woods?
Run now with me deep into the woods
Sit there on a stump, lets wait, just wait.
Listen with your heart, your dreams
Listen for the hidden things.
They will come, they will sneak in
Quietly at first, afraid of your grownupness.
You'll think them little birds or mice or such
They'll laugh at you, knowing you to be fooled.
Then as your gaze goes fuzzy, your ears buzzy
You'll catch one of them from the corer of your eye
Hear them just over yonder, so close
As they dance and sing and laugh... with you.

Our Hidden Child

There is still in each of us
That child hidden somewhere
In our mind, heart and soul
That wants to go out and play.
To wander and explore
A world that is fresh and new.
To chase lightning bugs
In the cool twilight.
To wander the woods
In search of treasure.
To run so hard life whizzes by.
To hear that beloved voice
Calling from the distance
"Come on home now.
Time to come home."

Foggy Lake

Thought the lake reaches out
Far, so far into the distance
That the farthest shore
Cannot be seen.
The fog, thick and roiling
Lays cotton candy sticky
Covering the horizon
Hiding the morning.

Lonely Night

Standing quietly on the front porch
The clouds move quickly to cover
Then reveal the crescent moon.
Though it is not so very late
And the night is just lovely
I stand alone in the midst of homes
Wondering if anyone else
Even noticed.

Lucky Day

Luck is not a lady
It is not on a run
Luck doesn't wear horseshoes
Or have dried up rabbit's feet
Luck is just what happens
When you get up every day.

Tin Roof Drummer

The old tin roof started a tip a tap beat
As the first drops of rain hesitated
Tip tap tippa tippa tap came the beat
Down the holler the storm danced
Tin roof played a marching tune
Louder and harder the rain played
Thunder crashed and rattled windows
Rain paused and tin roof slowed
Tap tip tappa tappa tip tip
High on the hills the storm brooded
Turned loose the winds that shook
Almost lifting that ol' tin roof away
Like beating a bass drum rains boomed
Beating and banging without rhythm
Flailing and thumping and beating
Till those inside sat quiet and afraid
The storm paused, seemed satisfied
Moved away from the holler swiftly
Leaving just a few drops to play
A simple tune on the ol' tin roof
Tap tap tip tappa tap.

Lightning Bugs

You ever wonder
Why little kids
Chase lightning bugs
Then sit mesmerized
Watching a mason jar?

Pup Dog Guard

Little pup dog
Snores by my side
Watchin' over me
Chasin' the monsters
From my dreams.

Spring Dance

The day is bright
The sky to lovely
To describe
Winter has gone
Finally cast aside
Sing Huzzah, Yippee
Dance the wild dance
Muddy Paws of Spring.