10.30
As the weather comes in
the birds are coming out
to the feeder tube where
corn and black seed mix
to fatten their blood for the
chill and damps.
little tough ones shake off
some of those larger
while others wait on the
porch deck for millet spills.
a world readying for blasts
like the generator waiting
its turn in my garage.
———————–
10.28
full moon cool night, frost dusting
across long languid farm field hills,
stubble filled now, while mother earth
begins her fallow rest.
along the way steam rises from
the yet warm soil, first winter’s
chill shifting into gear, and men
stretch and yawn in the barns
account books rest on kitchen
shelves. all but abandoned
a harvester rests in the fields, big
green and empty, its busy time done.
breathe now o fields of plenty, breathe
now rough-handed souls who turned
and cajoled and prayed these soils
into forms of wonder for the rest of us.
breathe now and take your rest, banded
by quilts of calico, dreams well earned,
well sworn, well mended. hold your hands,
eyes, and hearts with autumn’s done.
————————
10.27
walls of woods wash by
in a haze of green gray. rumble
bumble engines tumble
and minds slip away along
the drift.
whalebacks suddenly appear,
towns glisten then fade,
and the loss of electronic
connection comes
as a gift.
life along waterways that
flowed before we ever knew
what to do with them. salmon,
dace, lingcod, crab. alive and fine
without us.
——————-
——————————-
10.26
airport rushings, lines for
lines. to stand and sit and
spar as if it mattered when
the seats are already named
and no-one will get to
journey’s end one step
faster than another.
——————
Away from internet access for a week…. lovely respite.
—————————-
10.19
air water stone
breathe life
amidst gardens.
body missteps, muscle
weaknesses
spark
questions, resignations
amongst psyche, soul,
soma.
we brought nothing in
we’ll take nothing out
save our souls.
——————
10.17
Reading, writing, magazine scanning,
TV napping. The waiting room provides
cookies and cappucino for passing the
time until the service specialist nerd
brings the bill or news that it was more
complicated than first thought.
Is anyone waiting for a ride? The man
in the orange tee shirt walks through
with periodic aid offers but we all
know we won’t go. It is the waiting room.
Like purgatory but with less to do. Bide
the time, bless the time. We’re here to wait.
For deliverance.
———————–
———————————
10.16
affluence kills the gods
believing that nothing else
is needed and all that is,
is all.
harder than the camel’s eye
the illusion of plenty fosters,
in place of perspective,
despair.
and happy faces smile until
it does not go their way
and then the tiger blood
boils.
—————–
10.15
rain black night, slicks
of light lay down
lines to follow
back to my last homey
home, and the lover
who stays
forever.
—————–
10.14
daddy what’s an explorer?
an explorer is the guy who
comes back to tell the tale.
an explorer is the one who
knows when it’s time to
come back out of the cave.
the other guy is called
a dead guy
——————.
PoemsPerDay 