The Mourn of the Wild
The lonely Coyote
Draws his last breath
To howl once more,
The call of death.
He does not whimper.
But his soul does mourn
The encroaching slumber
A winter's warm.
He does not want,
A pyre or peace
His mark unknown.
Carrion’s feast.
His howl is long,
And in defeat
He knows not why,
He sounds his piece.
“This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere…”
- John Muir
The Hidden Things
Do you watch the willow wail?
And hear the hare harrying its rival.
Do you slumber as stars stare down?
Or taste the torrent of the rain?
Do you sense the snickering beast?
And feel the fledgling fowl take flight?
Or do you wander never looking?
See only what’s revealed by sight.
Can you smell that snake that's sallow?
And pick the poison of the pear
Or do you let the hallow, roll by?
The whispers never there.
Ancients
I walk under ancients
Their eyes see all and yet never focus on I
Their scars my life entire
Their burns still hold the fire
Weathered winters colder than the harshest soul
They do not talk to me
Their language is too booming
A frame grand and looming.
Journey’s Eulogy
From dust, to coast, trees and snow
I watched the sunrise and sunset
Alone but not secluded
Lost and not forgotten
My breath the same as the worlds I walk in.
And the many scars I saw,
Told me that pain is only temporary
The crumbling coast that lulled me
Reminding me, that so are we.
Storms that swept over us. Buffeted
As we hid away,
Is home too far behind?
But further in the night, past shade
It’s there, if only you know where to look.
My Father
I met a grandfather tree who told me stories like my own
He showed me scars, mystique around how he got them
But I knew
Years of hard living, fighting, of flames
He told me how he grew
Small at first and now roaring
He told me what it was to love.
Only when you know yourself
can you create a world for others.
He drank long and hard when opportune
Filling a belly that was stout
When the wind cut through he bellowed
Laughing with the world
Underneath was sadness
That some that once were with him, are no more
He knew he was wrong for it
But many things are wrong but true
With that I knew,
This grandfather tree was my own
He was them and they are him
Men and women grown.
Window’s view
Glass waves break softly
hardly a shatter.
Morning light lists gently.
Oh what’s the matter?
Islands among clouds across the distance,
If you cried, I know they’d listen.
More than I did. Half woke dreams
this strangers smile,
make the morning gleam.
then lulls the breeze
that pulls night away.
I wish I knew how you were today.
Fowl Faith
The sea breams dive on plane of shine
Dancing on a world divine
They glide and break on low calm waves
Knowing not they pave the way
A world of wonder, beneath, above
Many will mistake for love.
Zephyr’s Touch
Past half-sunk dreams there lies a coast
full of fish who host and toast.
They throw themselves atop the grill
and lemon scented rain then spills,
makes their meat flaky sweet.
the fire fills the air with beats.
The crackling acts as drums to dance
twisting, tangling feets, romance.
A chance, a glance. As dolphins sing
gifting you a seaweed ring
Set with pearls and ocean corals
A veil of stingrays unfurl
Star stained sand, light as clouds,
with the winds it makes a shroud
spins within and sparkling skin
feel the warmth of summer’s kin.
When the night fades and breaks
The night again begins to wake.
Endless summer spree indeed
shoals hold hope, and a sheen,
of perfect, twinkling,
Aquamarine
The Hunter
A man wore camouflage in the woods
Hoping that a buck would show
When it did, he was too slow
So he waited, the world moved around
He shooed no bugs he moved no ground
Nor ate nor drank, as summer fled
Stayed so still they thought him dead
Saplings grew around his waist
The beasts crept close, then they ate.
The hunter made no move for gun
now rusted shut, Blossoms bloomed
from its sunken guts.
Soon his skin became the bark
and the bark became his breath
The forest grew around without guessing of his catch
When it fell and faded
people throwing stones did build
They made their idols atop a hill
And filled it’s halls with kills
But the hunter waited still.
Feeling of his gaze they burnt the forest more
Scared of never knowing, the oath that he swore
Only the hunter turned to nurture
Held the secret that he found
He was looking past them
The future was around.