Walking with the President

I would like to take the president for a long walk in the woods.
We would climb humble hills and majestic mountains,
We would cross small steams, steaming in the morning light,
We would ramble across flowering fields and watch the bees
Bobbing on the blossoms.
We would listen-long, smell deep,
And touch things wet and cool and smooth.
We would spend dark nights perched on a rocky crag
And just look up...
And think back to the beginning of time.
We would walk and breathe and discover our way
Deeper into the universe,
Deeper than we ever have been,
Deep enough to realize that we do not need
To be in control,
And that it is good for us to let that go
On the next sun sent zephyr,
And know that there is most certainly
A better way.

 

The Lonely Walk

We have been caught out in the cold
In the fading light of this democracy
We have taken for granted
That it would always be there
Solid and monumental.
Silly to think it could not be snatched away
Silly to think that there was such a thing as
Absolute trust.
Absolute good.
This is a miss-read of human nature
This is a painful moment
This is a  long, lonely walk home.

 

 

 

Dance?

I’m somewhere between solitude and loneliness,
Can you help me?
This task will likely be burdensome since
I cannot teach you the steps to this dance,
Nor rule the hobgoblins
As they step forward fast
And then soon sashay and vacate
The dance floor.
Sometimes they are driven by a compelling beat,
Sometimes by an adolescent swoon,
Sometimes with no cause at all they
Come out to play,
Just cause.

So I need you to put on
That pretty dress,
You know the one,
And wait for me to take your hand
As I wait for the next ladies choice.
I think you know,
I think you know better than I.

Yielding to Resistance

Evaporation
Lifts water
Secretly rising gracefully
Skyward by the persistent power
Of the magician-god
The great Ra
Our soul
The Sun.
 
Heat and sweat and wind
Pluck the liquid loose
Stealing it from its earth bound vessels
And momentarily flaunts it
Flinging it wantonly skyward
In the face of gravity
Rising rebelliously
Then suddenly and finally
It is resisted
Yielding molecularly
 To the cold black wall of the sky
As strong force plays its part
And so self-attracted and slowed
And  rejoined in
Brief moments of chaos
And Condensation
And transitory concession
Downward it returns.
 
Visible now
Sticky dewy icy
Hexagonal flakes and shattered shards
Transformed into prismatic droplets
Rushing and plodding these
Tears of joy
Fill my cup and your ocean as
Gravity gets the first and last laugh
Throwing down precipitously
Against these brief mile markers
Of resistance…
 
Water,
Finding its only true home
In the constant
Cycle of change.

 

 

New Day

The sun breaches the near distant horizon.
It peeks over the ridge,
Eyeing its prospects,
Betraying its brief assignation with the night.
Goddess like it rises from its bed of darkness
Bursting full bore
Claiming the day by
Awaking and stirring the lake surface,
Which in cold hours and cloud-crowned darkness
Has been puckered and stiffened,
Driving the frost into its shadowy retreat
(Where it sulks late into the day)
Searing the ice into instant vapor,
It is swiftly
Setting those grey waters afire.

 

 

Angel Cup

Angel Cup



Damn, I cracked the angel cup.

-Don’t make too much out of it.

Geez, how am I to know that?

-Well, it’s just a cup.

Ya, but… it was a gift.

-From her?

Ya…

-But that’s history now, a long time ago, no?

Ya, but now it’s not…perfect, like it was.

-Perfect?

Ya, it fits in my hands just so, and the angel…

-Reminds you of her?

Ya, and how we were.

Damn.