Tilting windmills, chasing rainbows
I run and run to catch up with the sun
Instead of simply waiting
For it to come around again.
Like a child I build my castles
At the edge of lapping waves
With moats and berms and bailing bucket
Knowing the inevitable awaits.
To cry just the same when it comes
Wave after wave,
Cleansing and removing
All my efforts, all my dreams.
Seasons come and seasons go
In every realm and stage of life
And still the child remains within
Wishing upon a star in vain.
Please give it all to me,
Make it last, make it mine
And never take away
What is nothing but a dream.
(1/10/26)
It is October 2145 and the night scene is in full swing.
All buildings that used to house offices now house nightclubs.
Also known as dayclubs now, because people have a lot more time.
Time to pursue hobbies and interests, time to do exciting fun things.
When my grandparents were young buildings were for working.
Many people had to be in their cubicles from eight to five, making a living.
People work from their houses, huts, boats, treehouses and berms now.
Our work day is now four hours, the rest of our day is for family.
I have heard rumors that people used to carry guns and kill each other.
We do not have any of that now. People are not frustrated or angry.
Government requires brain conversion therapy that takes care of this.
We have a health care program that works for everyone.
Mental illnesses are passe’ now also; something we have heard about.
But frankly, we have never seen it. It simply does not happen now.
It is October 2145 and people are happy. We each have a dog or a cat.
Some have both; it is a requirement, mandated by the government.
So that we stay upbeat and optimistic, which we do.
After the rain, there are puddles;
After the rain, there are worms.
There might be some salamanders
Venturing out on the berms.
After the rain, some see rainbows;
After the rain, some see slugs.
There might be dripping umbrellas
Soaking your floors or your rugs.
After the rain, plants are happy;
After the rain might come sun.
Then there’s a time we’ll be waiting
Until the next cycle’s begun.
Just off the busy road there’s a dirt lane
that leads to a weather-worn covered bridge
where Red Tails gather at eventide.
In the sunlight the birds flicker on hot winds,
rest and watch on pylons and poles,
then rise to hover
over berms and hedgerows along the highway
driving small birds and field mice
into the shelter of scrub and thicket.
At days end they convene;
shake corn-dust from their wings,
bathe in the creek's shallow waters,
then the hawks perch
along the eaves of the bridge
while its oak rafters retreat to shade.
I arrive as the late evening
paints one last aureate sheen
over the slow rippling stream.
Hawks hunt alone - an acreage of sky
can support but one raptor.
I have photographed them many times
as they swooped and spiraled
scything the sky
with their swift-winged threats.
In this light a different picture emerges;
the row of muted birds could be sleeping
yet their eyes are wide open, alert.
A last twilight gleaming
briefly reveals their sentinel forms,
now in the gloom, only their eyes can be seen -
each one a blood-red sunset.
She said she would be gone a little while.
Hours later white-coated figures
wheeled her gurney in. She did not come out.
Though I imagine her coming out
being pushed in a wheelchair
flowers in her lap smiling weakly,
as I held a car door upon.
She travelled further than a little while,
the grocery store raced down a long road,
she chased it for miles and miles
then what with the headlong hours
tumbling over berms and ditches
like flung away road kills
I had to at last consider the term ‘a while,’
and what it meant to her.
Did she ever feel that the ER staff
had been on high alert since she was born,
or perceive the gravity of ‘a while’
as she sat laughing each morning
with her friends in the coffee shop,
or when her last lover quit
being her lasting love?
She’s gone now of course,
but for me that ‘awhile’ seems to grow less
every year I keep on living,
holding her face inside my eyes
like a child yet to be delivered.
A country road, a clutch of crows
And this is how it went:
They’d land right in the middle
With mysterious intent.
They’d hunt and peck until a car
Would come a bit too near,
Then they’d fly off and swoop back down
Right when the coast was clear.
Their new spot, though, was farther
Down the road from where they’d been
And then the hunt and peck routine
Would once again begin.
My husband figured out the cause,
For on that stretch of tar
Are critters squished beneath the wheels
Of every passing car.
So all those crows were cleaning up
The frogs, the slugs, the worms
That we would never notice
As we walk along the berms.
Just off the busy road there’s a dirt lane
that leads to a weather-worn covered bridge
where Red Tails gather at eventide.
In the sunlight the birds flicker on hot winds,
rest and watch on pylons and poles,
then rise to hover
over berms and hedgerows along the highway
driving small birds and field mice
into the shelter of scrub and thicket.
At days end they convene;
shake corn-dust from their wings,
bathe in the creek's shallow waters,
then the hawks perch
along the eaves of the bridge
while its oak rafters retreat to shade.
I arrive as the late evening
paints one last aureate sheen
over the slow rippling stream.
Hawks hunt alone - an acreage of sky
can support but one raptor.
I have photographed them many times
as they swooped and spiraled
scything the sky
with their swift-winged threats.
In this light a different picture emerges;
the row of muted birds could be sleeping
yet their eyes are wide open, alert.
A last twilight gleaming
briefly reveals their sentinel forms,
now in the gloom, only their eyes can be seen -
each one is a blood-red sunset.
The Sirens of the sea are calling
With a voice that is beyond compare
No man can pass without then falling
Into a spell that is their snare
With a voice that is beyond compare
They sing their eternal song
Into a spell that is their snare
To draw him in and do him wrong
They sing their eternal song
Calling for a goddesses return
To draw him in and do him wrong
They'll trap some sailors on their berms
Calling for a goddesses return
She was kidnapped by Hades you see
They'll trap some sailors on their berms
For the god of death won't set her free
She was kidnapped by Hades you see
He plans to have her company forever
For the god of death won't set her free
Her presence there he will not sever
He plans to have her company forever
No man can pass without then falling
Her presence there he will not sever
The sirens of the sea are calling
Walking on a rain-drenched street,
Right against the sidewalk berms,
Glancing down beside our feet
We spotted many slimy worms.
A few were flattened, squished and still
But some were slowly squirming.
What a treat that fills the bill
With grandkids, to go worming!
I would highly recommend,
When it's damp and cloudy,
Taking time so you can spend
Some minutes to say howdy
To those weird and wiggly guys
That slither out from under,
Filling us (in every size)
With just a little wonder.
6/22/17
In and out of each town
I just love how all these beats sound
Feet to the ground
Even when I'm feeling overwhelmed, and completly beatdown
Regardless of if I want to sleep now
Or eat chow
I'll still put you six feet deep clowns
Taking you and the so called big cheese out
Before the chance of a rebound
Near and far from driveways throwing away a 'free couch'
We all got our own stories to tell
What the hell
I should've, could've made 2017 XXL
Oh well
I'm not going to dwell
Or hide in any shell
Just going to try to propel
And excel
Lightyears beyond what their trying to sell
Not quite parallel
Or in the same realm
Near and far from any ferns
Turns, curves , berms and curbs
I always yearn to learn
Always realizing their is a point of no return
I still burn some herb
And do my best to earn
While keeping my word
Through whatever occurred
Even if it ended up being a blur
What I recently heard
Was absurd
And almost left me disturbed
Because it sounded like a turd
And did not deserve
To be ever called superb
through a mud stained field
and thickets galore
mountaintops blue in the haze
walked through hayfield stubble
with a damp, faithful dog
I am anticipating Halloween
but thoughts dissolve quickly
in fields and forest hues
indian summer is over
litters of leaves all around
we pass a dead coyote
the white dog pays no mind
there's no need to hurry
lots of creekside bushes
cause my path to crook and veer
I miss the smell of brush burning
and dread the winter coming
I'll cancel my reservation
and head for some coral reef distant
summer without end
twinkling snow berms
and bitter cold will come
but technology can remedy
the chill nuisance
of Arctic's southward plunge
9/9/16
Humans learned
After being proven and confirmed
Tides surge and churn, as tables turn
Objects and vessels remaining submerged
And others beginning to emerge
The say the early bird
Gets the worm
Even if it's all ready their third
Are we close to the verge
Or just starting out in certain terms?
People give you their word
Then throw you under the bus, and let you burn
These very moments
Trying to focus
The position I hold is stern
I do not want to be disturbed
So unconcerned
with how much another earned
Don't care what you heard
Think instead of being absurd
Understand the difference and discern
Up to you if you want to splurge
And go off an urge
Deja vu occured
In real life and through dreams I observed
Navigated many curves
And berms
Among forests with ferns
Decades of mystic dreamers have worn the path
trod across the leys, coupling pairs within Stonehenge.
Beneath the Wiltshire skies cornflower blue; they lust,
lotus-eaters, loose-limbed, seeking a blessed outcome.
With longing strides-- they reach, climbing earthen berms
to add their lovers song to move with the cycles.
Some take the blessed day, others wait the pearly moon.
See her so fairy fair dressed in naught but moonlight?
Watch his black-haired beast rise once encircled by her arms.
Back pressed against the dolmens, her heels wreath his waist
as virgin blood runs red like the holly berries
to feed the holy earth, she'll bear his child; she trusts.
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