Morning Window

Swaying blades to trace the wind

Clearing all the soot and sin

Shafts of light to feed the green

Giant trees that creak and lean

Grousing birds and groaning wood

as life proceeds just as it should

Overcast

Blown by the wind

The shuddering grass

Rocks with its kin

Like a turbulent mass

 

Limbs wave about

Victims of the gale

And without a doubt

Some may not prevail

 

The air in its whipping

Has no sense of goodwill

the limbs lose their gripping

Their fate now fulfilled

 

The clouds swiftly race

Across the drab sky

Hopefully chased

By a future more dry

Fall

Cruel winds now toss me

so randomly I fly

Now my world has lost me

and barely blinked an eye

 

Amidst the gales I tumble

My memories now grow thin

And still my stomach rumbles

for all I could have been

 

The veins that once had fed me

are growing hard and brittle

I once wore proud my envy

but the remnants left are little

 

All has been released now

My purpose, shine, and grip

I guess that time is just how

I started on this trip

 

The calm within my stasis

made me believe in safety

but I cannot escape this

I have stopped trying lately

 

The things I can see from here

have frightened and surprised me

As I travel, pushing through fear

The currents hypnotize me

 

I shuddered in the gusty wind

where I once spent all my nights

and free is how my time will end

as I succumb in flight

The Four Teachers

I was cruelly stung by a bitter wind

When my gloves were lost and my cover thin

I was soaked like soil that had turned to mud

By a whipping rain verging on a flood

 

I was coated thick by an earthen clay

On a walk meant to improve my day

I was singed and scorched by a licking flame

And a shifting log was the one to blame

 

Yet a blowing wind once did clear my mind

With its warm caress I was left sublime

And the succulence of a warm spring shower

Washed my sins from me and restored my power

 

Then a rich dark soil on my digging hands

Reconnected me made me understand

And a glowing fire gently lit my way

Still allowing stars to proclaim their say

 

Elements can teach what we need to learn

About giving in to get what is earned

About being sure we are victims still

If we pass the blame and forget our will

 

That the strongest souls can weaken yet

And each moment lived stays a moment met

Every element can a mercy give

To remind us what it means to live

Calling Upon Friends

I beckon the sunshine to crawl within

To brighten the dark and burn the sin

To bring the glow back to my skin

And warm all those I see

 

I beckon the wind to lift my feet

To carry those fragrances so sweet

To gust against the pain I’ll meet

And carry it from me

 

I beckon the rain to fall, to pour

To wash out the dirt within my core

To muddy the roads I’ve taken before

So I can change direction

 

I beckon the words to form my thoughts

To clear the debris and heal the rot

To tell of the treasures that can’t be bought

To find my next inception

True to Life

A sliced sun rises in the forest

exhumeing monsters from the dark

Skittering and flapping from their hiding places

The wind tousles the bed of leaves surrounding me

Blowing a cool kiss to make the suns warmth

Even more cozy

My uncertain feet unearth forgotten limbs

Allowing them a brief chance to reach skyward once more

The life and death of nature is visible, undeniable

Its bones and skin crack crisply beneath my feet

My feet disappear amongst them at times to remind me

That gone is not forgotten

The small green faces rising from their husks seem to shine

With the same gleam as the sunrise

All is not lost, not yet any way

Currents

A train runs through my sky today

Once stagnant trees now bend and sway

The windows shake from den to attic

Nothing is still, nothing is static

 

Even inside I feel it moving

Mother Nature’s harsh reproving

Scolding with infernal gusting

Walls of air, pushing, thrusting

 

Tearing all it can asunder

All she’s made is strewn and plundered

Limbs and leaves to cover all

The victims of her vicious squall

Sentimental Sunday: The Prettiest of Ponds

The frightened pheasant flutters
Flying in a burst
Startled by the panting fox
Who came to quench her thirst

The female fox is furrowed
Shorter are her days
Lacking will and drive to hunt
On eggs and fruit she’ll graze

A fearful fish feels furtive
Peering at the shore
His gills grow still and silent
For he’s met a fox before

The frog floats on a flower
Singing strong and proud
From time to time he nabs a bug
From the thick and buzzing cloud

The flies all flit and fumble
Done in by graceless genes
You could say they move swift
Though more akin to a careen

The flourishing fans of ferns
Reach widely with their fronds
They add their rich green hues
To this, the prettiest of ponds

Bounty

Tread upon a hopeful path

And count your every step

It will do your soul no good

To run ‘til out of breath

 

Savor the soil underneath

Enjoy the things it feeds

See the wonder in the dirt

That houses what you need

 

Sip the stream that’s running by

The path on which you walk

Let its coolness comfort you

And notice how it talks

 

Seek the shade beneath the trees

And spend some moments with them

They have witnessed generations

They are ripe with wisdom

 

Count the flowers and the leaves

Enjoy their luscious blooms

Notice that they still will grow

wherever there is room

 

Remember that the sun’s a star

With its warmth and light

Its elements are inside you

And always shining bright

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