note
the call of home is strong,
tugging at me,
as I go back
sliding along in my big fat car,
hovering effortlessly over
this concrete ribbon of civilization
zipping away from my nebraska desert
a desert rich with things invisible
to the eyes of my youth
wonders never realized then
but clear now as I hurry, hurry away
back to the world of fast and bland
note
thanksgiving friday at the in-laws,
yesterday's turkey still rumbling
wife out spending,
kids complaining,
grandpa snoring,
football boring,
life...just...soaring...
but I'd rather be here than anywhere.
cushioned in the midst of good, old, fattening love
savoring every single minute
I can pretend to be so injured
by something I hold so dear
pass the cranberries.
not a note
I happened upon your hand
holding mine,
not realizing it was there
a hand landscaped by
helping and holding, full of
marvelous bends and grooves
worn thick by toil
yet holding me
with a touch light and full
speaking softly into my palm
transfering itself
subliminally soothing my flaws
where did you come from
note
the summer sky calls my eyes
to stare with head back, straight up
thru lids filled with yellow dizzy.
I sway at the whim of the world
opened to new dreams.
my thoughts are strummed
by fingers of cloud
I ask them, I tell them,
I wander in their hands till
finally, full, I spiral to earth
note
stream floating leaves
embolded by their color,
shine brilliantly by--
striving toward the possiblity
of their coming new world,
slow to realize they have been
discarded,
shed,
conquered
first by wind,
now by water
and soon by
by the weight of themselves,
sinking
note
mediocrity
screams in my ear
as it hovers near my mind
alone the target of it's laughter--
ever my companion, my comparison
always there,
mocking my triumph and
dampening, ever danker,
my joy
rendering everything
in the backcolor of doubt
note
when I get close to river trees,
the promise of their limb's embrace
always draws me out of the margin
once immersed, I am greeted
with tatters of leaf light
that wander down to dapple me
in sun colored camouflage
seduced by the musty taste
of old in the air
I burrow deeper,
lead on by the undercurrent of sound
that only stops as my ears
approach recognition
as I bend and twist along
my friends reach out;
scratching and tugging with branchy hands,
cleaning away all the loose things,
snaring away the layers I have accumulated
since our last embrace.
until they expose me again
restoring young eyes to an old soul
helping me give up the weight of worry,
letting control slip away and
affording me small moments
of innocence.