Oh! Like leaves we touch, we learn. Now and forever we know the story. As winter calls, we will starve But dance will keep us warm.

July 2024

There is a storm in me tonight.

As two atmospheres collide, one cold, one hot, resulting in turmoil and powerful disturbance, my mind and heart are in disarray.

In me, the HEAT of joy at completing our building project, with its weeks and weeks of worry — worry that I will forget, disappoint, discourage... that I will fail my friends and Father. Though I KNOW they are all the model of patience and love, my heart seems blind to reason and logic.

Suddenly, crashing unexpectedly into the satisfying completion of a job well done: the COLD realization that these same days, days that have delivered tearful joy, laughter and loving touches, moments of intimate camaraderie and bonds forged more deeply by being together… they are over.

As the sun is setting over the glowing golden fields tonight (oh my god they are beautiful), the air after the storm is so absolutely perfect and crystalline that it defies poetry. But my heart understands. A heart overflowing with happiness and joy, and tears at parting from my friends.

I thank my Father that we have this lifetime and these fellow souls, though it is too short and I beg for another and another and another so that we may again suffer the tempest of love and loss that gives so much.

I want this feeling forever.

#poetry

Foolishness is a disease that comes on very slowly. And without preamble or prejudice.

No cure, Only symptomatic mitigation And the collateral tears.

Affliction of the young, The old The wise The bold, especially.

It cares little for your Hopes and dreams Except to bend Them to it’s ineffable will.

Like a sucker punch, foolishness is impossible to expect. The best you can hope for Is to counter the blow with routine.

Of goodness, Of seriousness Of generosity Of will.

What began as parental illness, Propagated to pandemic And today… Endemic.

Incurable. But it shall Not always be so.

One day, foolishness, which is ever tied up in the heart of a boy, will die with youth.

We will laugh At the foolishness Of Children When we can truly Say we are men.

When we are wise And can see the end from The beginning And so we STOP.

And marvel At how Knowledge applied, Really is wise.

#poetry

What is it you would like to say?
 Say it, for this is the world’s end.

A poem about death shortly after the anniversary of losing my wife's closest friend.

How could I worry about me?

I am now struck— Struck by how much I loved her, And how through all the years, I never once said, I love you.

I laughed with her. Supped with her. Took her cookies. Listened to her. Suffered next to her. Dreamed of her.

But—like my flesh and blood, I took her for granted— This woman who gathered me in, Through three decades and five, Sometimes as son, Sometimes as brother, Sometimes as a wise one.

—

Now, it's 3:30 a.m., Adrift in the emptiness of a parking lot 
I hear the distant whistle Of a night train crying Through the wind.


The clack-clack-clack Rolling in the dark Carries me back Where these sounds once Wove themselves into her walls.

Vibrations signaling I was trapped— Not in fear, But in refuge Walled from a worried world For just a few minutes more.

How I wish now— I wish I could be trapped one more time, Just for those moments. Not long— Just long enough to say:

Thank you.

I love you.

#poetry #death #confession #storytelling #write #100daystooffload

2025-04-26 09:39:17

A red leaf falls Something rustles In the undergrowth. A wind waves in the tree tops. Red shoes crunch and scratch, Climb, stretch, step. Chic-a-dee skips on a branch ahead. Cheep, hop, cheep-cheep, hop Pebble bounces down. This road only goes up I keep climbing But from what? Nothing to escape from. Nothing to escape to. The hope of majesty drives me, Keeps me moving. Over stone, under branch Through the brush Brambles scratches and pull.

A brown leaf falls

The rush of senses new Heavy breath Suck and blow Inhale, hold Hold Hold Release! Wonderful rush. Smell... wood and fall, Wet and soil, Brilliant stabs of light through foliage. This immaculate beauty Is everywhere all at once. Overwhelming. Synapses forming with Each breath. Each thought. Never more important than as a beard grows grey. The world is vast I will never stop Unless it stops me.

A yellow leaf falls

This was a piece I wrote after a long morning hike on a road trip in 2022. We had camped overnight and while my wife slept, I got up early and explored the surrounding hills. Which just went up up up. It was good for me, though. I had a lot of thinking to do that day and the effort was cathartic.

Discuss...

take it all in #story #travel #poetry

wrinkled pages