Down here on Ruby Lane
Sitting looking at the rain
Looking at my glass of red
Thinking what I haven’t said
If through negligence some changes
Shuffle here with rearrangements
Nothing’s changed its all the same
Changes die on Ruby Lane
From the dullest land of mad
I have come to get some bread
And some wine I need to take
Just to have a little break
Cause I can afford it now
No one’s here to disallow
They don’t care neither do I
Could it be I’ve come to die
In this place that’s fine by me
Where I laughingly can see
Sunny spots through drops of rain
Down here on Ruby Lane.
Is that ok to live with all the same conclusions
Or is it like worn clothes when you do not
Care what to wear in your goddamn seclusion
And like the old familiar recipies you’ve got
You see no change, its all the same old stories
Most likely, you can’t notice any changes
For otherwise it goes to different category
You leave no chance for any sudden rearrangements
But there's a vague unease brewing inside
You’re getting out of use, like old device
This might be called depression in most trite
Of understandings, but you never think it twice.
In the spring of '23, at first, all looked pretty and free.
The first year in our new home, we anticipated a beautiful canopy
as the trees began to bear buds and beautiful blossoms. But then
came a late freeze and changed the flow of green. The results were
huge, and the flowers and trees probably were a bit confused.
No different from you or myself, they retreated to return later.
Indeed, they did return but came with lots of limbs and leaves.
So, this summer, the peaches and plums were nonexistent.
All of mankind has learned to never take it personally,
because whether it's bad weather or a dreaded disease,
life and Mother Nature will often refuse to please.
Our Crape Myrtles were not nearly as lovely as last year.
Yet, they are doing their best with never a tear.
And the peach and plum trees have not a single fruit.
The young pecan tree died but fortunately, not from the root.
Two out of three mulberry bushes somehow managed and made it.
Although young, they were fruitful and in them, there was 'no quit'.
They endured both the challenges and the climate change; and they
wisely built defenses, making adjustments and rearrangements.
090523PS
Augur Auger
David J Walker
It was all in the spelling
Actually
An e here or a u there
And the foreshadowing’s
Changed in strange
Rearrangements
After all, as a young augur
What was I to the grain
Augered into the silo
And yet if a Crow cawed
From a barbed wire fence
My uncle would turn the pickup
Around
And head for town
Discussing the meaning in
A mid-morning
coffee shop séance
Where everyone partook of the
Smoke and the black liquid
Was it rain or death foretold
in the beak of the blackbird
Everyone had their own opinion
One farmer left saying
He was a Christian
And would have no part in
The dark discussion
He would see them in
Church on Sunday
And just as augured
Everyone went back
To his own filed
Gaging a yield in the
Formation of clouds
A Joyous Uprising!
Let joy be a revolution!
The uprising of joy
Overtakes
All heaviness!
All worry!
All confusion!
Create a major splash
In the atmosphere
Causing rearrangements!
Create new combinations
Allow the joy of yellow
And the passion of red
To combine!
Combine and watch
Putting passion in your joy
Joy into your passion
Watch for combinations
Bringing forth expressions
that haven’t been heard!
Let joy be a revolution
A Joyous Uprising!
Let it bring a new sensation
A feeling of contentment!
Let joy be the foundation
For a world of love and peace!
Let us see its face!
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