Flight

Gravity is a universal law

Essential to all existence,

Growing or slowing by relative mass

With elegant class and persistence.

And I and you and

The fresh morning dews

Must yield to the ultimate power

To find it our friend from beginning to end

As life breathes in every flower.

Alas, longing to fly

Far beyond the red sky

From horizon to distant horizon

To frolic and sing

Like a bird on the wing

And elude this terrestrial prison.

As Icarus learned in his quest for the sun

 There is consequence to every action.

And though it be regal

To soar like an eagle

Might we e’er achieve satisfaction?

While we ponder and preen in

Our flying machines

Jumping mountains and oceans

With utter delight

The thought seems absurd

We should covet the birds

And be envious of their flight. 

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So Much to Learn

Seven plus decades have taught me a lot,

Much of which I have long since forgotten

Without ceremony or such tommyrot

To bring me to here where I belong.

 

One might say that learning begins in the womb

And lasts until flesh and bone rest in the tomb.

The struggle of whether to use who or whom,

The difference between right and wrong.

 

Schooling can help just as sure as you please,

And books can convey so much knowledge with ease,

As experience gives with a taunt and a tease

Like the words of a sad country song.

 

And just when I think I know all that I need

Life throws me pickles and spits out the seeds

Leaving me clueless with nary a lead

Believing all promise is gone.

 

But hope is a butterfly flitting about,

Gathering nectar his only concern

And I have a wellspring of knowledge to scout

With evermore so much to learn.

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Isn’t It Fun?

Stop for a moment.

Put down the book and

Take a deep breath to relax.

I’ll wait.

Don’t be shy or demure,

But before you move on

Just know it’s ok to hesitate.

To be in the moment is

Not just a dream you imagined with eyes

Shuttered cold from the light.

It’s more an epiphany

Resting on rainbows, then

Watching as winds grow to

Launch it in flight.

Dancing with joy

As the music plays jauntily, then

Resting a bit to regain the air.

Patiently waiting the slow song,

The ballad,

The warmth of your arms,

The scent of your hair.

Lost in the moment,

Paradise won.

Just you and I.

Isn’t it fun?

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Waiting

Moments pass in endless prattle,

Rigid backs against the wall

Without a clue of who to turn to,

Waiting for the sky to fall.

 

Not one soul to lend an ear or

Seek a favor, friend or foe.

Once secure, now taught to fear for

Silent threats that come and go.

 

Surely, there must be an ending

To this cloak of endless night.

Flip the stone of glimmer’s fortune

That will usher in the light.

 

Teach me, help me to relearn

The confidence that we all knew

When flowers burst in brilliant hues again

In fields where once they grew.

 

Take us to that land of plenty

Where no care would dare remiss.

Waiting patiently with longing

For the phantom world of bliss.

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Zephyrs

Soft as a whisper on welcoming ears,

Soothing as silk swaddling sensitive skin,

The Zephyrus winds wafting over my brow

Like smooth streams from strings

Of a sad violin.

And you are my Juliet, sweet and serene,

The joy of the morning,

Delight of my night.

My guide and my comfort,

Keeper of conscience,

The rhyme to my reason,

The left to my right.

And the west wind may claim you

As one of her own

So no one can hold you

Or build you a home.

And I’ll wait forever

If forever must be

For the zephyrs to bring you to me.

Sunset is fading and time holds the key

As I wait the west winds

To bring you to me.

Alone in the shadows I break down and cry

For a loss I can never deny.

And the west wind may claim you….

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Be

There are trials and troubles that challenge

As the highways ahead unwind,

And as sure as the sun rises up from the East

You are lost in the flurry of time.

You say that you’ll shoulder the burden,

That your heart longs to run wild and free,

But the fears that you’re carrying deep down inside

Can all melt away by degree

If you will just…  be.

 

Every moment is precious,

Each breath is a gift,

Every mem’ry a cherry-red prize.

As you wake every morning to welcome the day

And feel blessed when you open your eyes.

 

There’re a million and one breathless choices.

You can hear as they call out your name.

Some are easy and some are life-changing

Setting all your tomorrows aflame.

But the fires can turn cold in an instant

As you breathe in the sweet morning breeze.

In the stillness the quiet rains soft on your face

In a place beyond reality

Where you can just… be.

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THE TRAIL NEVER ENDS

I couldn't tell you where this trail began;

No one can. It stretches for miles

And leagues and ages and eons gone by.

It troubles philosophers who seek where it leads.

 

Time travels swiftly in every direction,

Not simply forward as we're led to believe.

Our minds are too feeble to capture forever

As we stumble about fulfilling or needs.

 

If there is a forever, I want to go there,

To travel the pathway where Destiny dwells,

To reach out and touch the face of eternity,

Kissing the ring of an undying friend.

 

Touching the garment that falls from His shoulder,

Walking beside Him, lighter than air.

Keeping in step as the road bends before us,

Happily knowing the trail never ends.

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FREE FALL

Life is a free fall

Plunging through darkness;

A slip from the high wire

With no safety net

Down below and the Earth

Climbing higher to meet us

As we plummet headlong

Forsaking regret.

But oh, my!  The feeling,

The exhilaration,

The pump of emotion

Coursing through veins

Set to burst, primed and ready

To seek out adventure,

To loose from the doldrums

And break from the chains.

The wind speeding past

Scorches tender young skin,

And eyes are a blur

As they try to recall.

Braced for the crash

At the end of the ride,

We laugh at the wind...

And enjoy the fall.

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SAY IT IN ENGLISH, PLEASE

Sorry, I know it's rude of me to

Not be able to understand.

Pity that we do not all practice

Similar linguistic speech

So that we might communicate

Like Star Trek's fabled characters

Whose universal translators

Allow a broad outreach.

 

Yes, I studied French and Spanish;

Know a few words and phrases in each;

Know how to say "hello", "goodbye"

In a number of tongues with the greatest of ease.

But if you really want me to understand,

To be able to respond in kind,

Just one favor I ask of you;

Say it in English, please.

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THE WITNESS

I was there.

I saw it happen.

It left a portrait in my mind,

Painted with an artist's brush,

Each stroke awash with vivid pigment

Placed with knowing, seeing hand,

Affixed on canvas, mounted, framed

And there displayed in muted light

In the museum of my mind.

There to be recalled or recreated

At a moment's notice,

Or somehow quietly creeping,

As I lay sleeping, into fitful dreams;

Waking me from restlessness,

Denying fond forgetfulness,

Knowing that I must confess,

Bound to be the lone witness.

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COMFORTABLE SHOES

Faithful conveyors, what I would give to

Ease the burden you must bear, and

Help you to carry this flesh and bone from

Hither to yon and back again.

 

Strapped with the bindings of fashion or season,

Designer's opinion of what you should wear;

Punishment undeserved and unwanted,

Wondering what must have been your great sin.

 

Blessed relief when the trial is over,

The buckles undone, the laces unlaced.

Wonder on wonder, why were you subjected

To such cruel torture meant to abuse,

When a few more moments of searchful reflection

May have offered relief and quickly erased

All the suffering which could be avoided

By choosing a pair of comfortable shoes.

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THE CLEAN CRISP AIR OF AUTUMN

Something is different as I wake this morning.

The air has the freshness of cool satin sheets

As I rise to greet the new day at it's dawning.

My mind starts to race and my heart skips a beat

In anticipation; something has changed.

The air is new and clean and alive;

No sweltering mire of the dog days of August

With laboring breath meant to merely survive.

 

No sweat-stained nightshirt.

No ragweed filled head.

No tossing about through the night in half-sleep.

The breeze falling down from Saskatchewan beckons

A peaceful serenity, silent and deep.

 

The trees know the difference. they've started to blush

Knowing full well their nakedness soon will appear.

The Sun itself seems to be more in a rush

To shorten each day to the end of the year.

But I'll not waste these precious days.

I'll count each one with loving care;

Recording the sights of the changing seasons,

Breathing the clean, crisp Autumn air.

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THE CREEK BELOW THE GARDEN

God's little acreage just below a grove of pine

Which in season wore the sweet cologne of nature's gift;

The warm clean scent of honeysuckle lingering in

Morning dew which touches wild huckleberry bushes

Clinging near the ground.

 

The garden clearing held a maze of bush and vine,

A quarter acre filled with roadside vendor's ware

Which mother rather gave away than charge a tariff

For their growing; an abundance more

Than we could use before their freshness faded past.

 

But I, in youth, was forever intrigued by

The narrow strip at the garden's edge, where a

Trickle of water somewhere upstream grew to a band

A few feet wide and sliced a miniature canyon through

The lower quadrant of our land.

 

Tall trees bordered on all sides, ancient in their guardianship. 

Moss and fern attested to the quiet seclusion from the sun.

Elderberry lined her sides with deep red-blooded sweet repast,

Which mother captured in a jar to last

Through winter's coldest days.

 

In Summer we would force her waters back

Into her shallow banks with stone and stick and sand,

A man-made dam of rudimentary skill, which washed away

The first strong rain that fell to quell

Our foolish youthful dreams.

 

Funny how the time goes by and memories fade into night.

But certain aspects in our youth are lasting thoughts... unwavering.

The creek below the garden is undying in my meager mind;

A cave-wall painting etched in stone...

A fond remembering.      

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SPEED

Motion... building...zero to sixty

And beyond until the friction

Singes against supple skin,

And eyes begin to mist and blink

To focus on what lies ahead,

As passion quickly turns to dread,

Adrenaline pumps fast and fierce.

A pounding heart pounds harder yet

Like jungle drums foreboding doomed

Anticipation of regret.

But it keeps moving; cannot stop;

Becomes addicted to itself,

An all-consuming fervent passion

Fueled by fever, cloaked in stealth,

Feeding on it's own desire

Speed keeps building higher, higher,

Higher!  Faster!  faster yet...

Until it's time to pay the debt.

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BRIDGES

Whether to cross a wide river or gorge,

Or some symbolic abyss of our lives,

We all build bridges

From dreams to realities

Looking beyond what we see with our eyes.

 

There is strength in a bridge;

A power unspoken;

A built-in resolve to inhabit the land,

To cross over boundaries and

Seek out new faces and places

So that we might understand

All of life's little secrets

Lying just "over there";

Just over the harbor, beyond the divide.

We keep building bridges,

Seeking her treasures,

Until mother Earth has no more to hide.

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WHITE PICKET FENCES

Straight and tall, poised and polished,

Bathed with the purity of white

The silent sentinels stand guard

Along the quiet streets and lanes;

A symbol of serenity,

Of a haven housing peace and love;

Standing duty round the clock,

They drop their guard to welcome home

The weary work-worn wayward souls

Who toil to keep them in repair.

Their gates swing open, beckoning,

Inviting in with loving care.

 

Not a barrier at all

Are these brave soldiers of the lane;

Their presence not intended to

Lock out a single sound or soul.

Instead they bid a welcoming

And offer sanctuary

When panic rushes from all sides

And madness takes its toll.

 

Picket fences... purest white...

Vigilant both day and night.

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WATER

Here I stand at my back door window.

The robins have not yet awakened to sing,

But sleep has eluded my senses this morning,

Chased by the gentle tap-tapping you bring.

 

I stare at the streams of fresh liquid crystals

Which dance in the floodlight in chorus line fashion;

A river, an ocean which falls from the Heavens

And cleanses the Earth with a demonic passion.

 

I beckon the taps, for I must have my coffee,

And you, most obediently, quickly obey

In an act which is commonly taken for granted

A hundred, a thousand times every day.

 

My mind starts to wander and worship your treasure,

You giver of life we both fear and revere;

Your presence a barrier or a conveyance;

A reason to weep, a reason to cheer.

 

We span your expanses with bridges and monuments,

Ride on your whitecaps to enchanted isles

Where waterfalls freshen the mist of the morning

And crystal clear streams seem to go on for miles.

 

Married to sunlight... Creator of life...

Earth would be barren if you were not there...

Sustenance too often taken for granted;

Water... water everywhere.

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OLYMPIC GLORY

They came from every corner

Of an ever-changing world,

Diverse in dress and culture,

Speaking unfamiliar tongue,

Each with their special talent,

Eager to put on display

The exuberance and energy

Inherent to the young

Who's' lofty goals exceed the limits

Of our grand imaginations.

Records are no obstacles

When sights are set on high.

Success is bought with passion,

Perseverance, perspiration

And the fortitude to carry on,

Never asking why.

Each and every one of them

A unique song to sing.

Don Quixote's quest pales

With the telling of their story.

They all seek dragoned windmills

To topple in their dreams;

Chasing immortality

To find Olympic glory.

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FORTUNE'S FAVORITE SON

The lottery jackpot was

Twelve million bucks;

So, I bought my ticket like

All hopeful fools.

Somebody, somewhere,

Favored by luck

Will find the right combo

To capture the pool.

Who knows what might happen?

So, might as well try it.

If someone is going to win,

Why not me?

It surely won't happen if

I fail to buy it;

And no one is likely to

Give them for free.

So, I'll take a chance and

Wager a dollar,

And hope for the best when

The drawing is done,

That luck is a lady and

I am her child.

Oh! to be Fortune's favorite son

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THE BLESSING

To say that we are truly blessed

In understanding God's design.

So many gifts are undeserved.

If we would stop and take the time

To count our blessings one by one,

The pause would be forever long.

Time and again these miracles

Have been immortalized in song

And story sometimes ages old;

While often others go untold

And we are left to sort it out;

Discard the stones and keep the gold.

 

Thankful for the daily bread...

Thankful for the warming Sun...

Thankful for the air we breathe...

For restful sleep when day is done.

Thankful for the fortitude to

Face the daily stress and strife,

And for the greatest gift of all...

The opportunity of life.

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FAMILY

Taking the gauntlet of support...                                        a

Reaching out when others turn away...                              b

Reconciling differences of rage                                         c

With words unspoken, just a look,                                    d

A touch, a feeling, an embrace.                                         e

Lives that intertwine like lace,                                           e

Whose history could fill a book                                         d

With pictured stories on each page                                    c

That fade with age to shades of gray                                 b

In vague statistical reports.                                                a

 

Families are made to give;                                                   f

Conception itself a gift of life                                              g

To an unsuspecting innocent child                                       h

To be nurtured and coddled until the day                             i

It can stand and walk and run on it's own,                           j

And decide for itself it is fully-grown.                                 j

But even as we make our way,                                             i

And stumble, falter and trek through the wild,                   h

Family pulls us through all the strife,                                 g

Feeding the sustenance needed to live.                               f

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THE COMFORT ZONE

I've never been one to walk on the edge,

To take the great challenge,

To live on a dare.

I leave it to others to bunji

Or dive from a plane never knowing if

My chute will open,

Facing the danger knowingly unaware.

 

I admire those who have captured the nerve

To explore the unknown,

The uncharted seas;

Thumbing their noses at dangerous waters,

Racing so fast that the world is a blur;

Having the gall to do just as they please.

 

Living each moment spurred by adrenaline,

They face the challenges,

They walk alone.

The rest of us watch and vicariously dwell

Far form the danger of their man-made Hell...

Safe in the arms of our comfort zone.

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FOREVER YOUNG

Why can't we be forever young?

Age is such a demon bastard,

Rogue taskmaster, overlord who

Seeks to take our very best

And put it in a distant past,

Where it is just a memory of

Bygone glories, reminisced on

Holidays and family gatherings

Where we are offered sad reminders

That we were never meant to last.

 

Bodies crumble as time marches;

Circuits spike from overload.

Looking back becomes obsessive

As the future dims to night.

Partners leave and friends forsake

And we are left to dance alone,

Seeking solace in new faces

Opening new eyes to light.

 

In our hearts we build new hope;

New songs, new lyrics to be sung.

Living 'til the day is over,

We shall be forever young.

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