I’m in my 60s they have been radically active since I was 14 years old I thought it might be time to be able to sit back rider little poetry and enjoy the fruits of my laurels that a fucking know we have to keep fighting with the machine the machine with the orange face God damn he i’m in my 60s they have been radically active since I was 14 years old I thought it might be time to be able to sit back rider little poetry and enjoy the fruits of my laurels that a fucking know we have to keep fighting the machine the machine with the orange face God damn it
I will miss
Cricket symphony
Taccata and Fugue
Evening murmuring
Howls of hounds
startle geese calling out,
ensuring mate is safe
Winds sings through pine
Trees tell delicate stories
Of bird families held,
nurtured, let go to
Autumn's call
Slight breezes sip upon my
Skin, like puppies blindly
nuzzling for mothers' milk
Calls of silent aching
Last embers of fire smolder
to remind that danger
passed so closely Yet
Spared the predator
No fire too close
No smoke too far
Sleeping ducks alert
The ponds chill and wings
slip to their sides as
Graceful ancient water ballet
Keep safe the delicate dreams
No fear. No drowning
All buoyant and sacred
The moon casts strong
shadows now high
In the heavens
Chickens roost near our
doorways. Heads tucked
into feathered warmth
Familiar as mother hen body
kept chicks warm in safe
sanctions. Only rooster
Awakens to check on mates
Sleep and once again
Crickets lull the illusion
Of summer safety and danger
I will miss warm reminders
I gather the fleece close to
my naked skin.
Dog approaches
To tell me. The season for
Sitting in warmth and
Summer comfort draws
near as the last moth
Circles evening spotlight
I glow with the gifts
Change but elusive. I am
Certain to feel this
Again in the evening
I will miss nothing but
Cricket serenade in
Sonatas
The chorus heard
In another time. Another
World. Another summer night
Ahead of my motion
Enjoy. Change so dear
That the world holds it
Constant. No chaos tonight
Posts
