Blessings of a Decade

Y2K loomed over us then
We burst forth from the nineties with wonder
What could this new century bring us
Visions of The Jetsons still fresh from our childhood minds
Orwell's '84 passed behind us

The blossoming happened with surprises
A change in the guard, then a tragic loss to the world
The towers came down early on
Our innocence, though betrayed
Remains with our hope, endeavoring

The growth happened in the folds of our pages
Connections bound us together in new ways, in new places
Healing the wounds of the past
Blessed and redirected by time itself
A road lies ahead now, beckoning

Driven

Asphalt winding curb to grass to trees
White paint dashed down a long highway forgotten
The miles we have tread unheeding too distracted
Missing the sky, the colors, the birds flying by

We pass under bridges undaunted
No recognizing those that pass overhead
Unrealized lives of those rushing beside us
Except for freeze frame, catching a face here, a soul there

Road winds forward through lifetimes abruptly
Lives encapsulated so alone in our travels
Seeking reason wishing adventure realizing ourselves
Missing moments, flying by us, outside our own doors

Soul of a Tree

Take any tree
gloriously standing apart
branches twisting up toward the light
knowing nothing but the light
even when the cold beats against its bark
then snow sticks, creating stark
contrast to the brown ridged surface
as does the golden sun of afternoon
those warm days glowing against green leaves
later to gracefully age
colored from life above the surface
so much depth not seen from up here
tiny roots curling tight around stones in the soil
embracing the fertile ground, or
sometimes barren land its only reservoir
yet it pulls its strength from either
shooting up from the ground
that first small green start
reaching up for the light
it knows nothing, but the light.

Desert Clues

I walk the sand, pensive
stepping backwards in my head
instead, the spiral down felt hard
watching my feet forced forward
step by step ahead of the wind
there is no stopping the progress
despite the birth pangs there
and no glimmer of beach glass found, lest
you are willing to look at the sand, pensive
birthing your soul from within

Memories of Home

I said goodbye to the woods
back when the house was sold
Our little white aluminum sided
log cabin hidden at the end of the driveway
Having long ago packed for another place,
I returned to say goodbye to the trees
taking in the smell of the oak leaves and
laughing at the big mulberry
near the house it made for
a summer of sweeping the driveway
near several yard's worth of lawn
on our property
that I mowed every summer.
There is a wooded area to the front
where we used to play
house or tag or hide and seek
sometimes we just stood by the
fence and talked
wild wintergreen covering the ground
those red berries still bright in my mind
like the high place in the driveway
where the ground was good for sitting
just like my favorite clump of trees by the front fence.
We had two lady slippers that bloomed
every year like clockwork
they were jewels among the leaves there.
Our deer visited regularly to sample
my father's vegetable garden
along with my mother's flowers.
I said goodbye to the trees then
laying on the hood of my car
looking up at the blue sky, remembering
making sure I left last
taking the sign with our family name
closing the gate, turning left onto the street
for the last time.

Parallel Pause

She walks outside, looks up to the sky, sees
geese fly south for the winter, hears
the sounds of cars flying down the avenue, watches
the colors of the leaves and the grass - still deep green.

He notices the color of the sky, sees
the patterns in the leaves and the tracks in the sand, senses
woodsmoke from a nearby fire, finds
a wildflower blooming brightly in the morning sun.

She finds a small stream off the inlet, walks
along the path for a while, hears
the scattering of a bird in the underbrush, tries
to piece together the messages from her heart to her soul.

He climbs across the rocks, divided
along the beach where the surf sparkles brightly, finds
a small stone deep in his pocket, reminded
of the song she whispered in his ear that morning.

She walks back along the path, waiting
for the sign that carries her answers, shares
conversation to cheer another, takes in
the colors of the leaves and the grass - still deep green.

The Clock Ticks Past Time

I like this path
Its worn edges
grass wedges
in muddy oblivion
Time passing my
patience edges
my head is amped
past 5000 rpm
Still I walk with
that idea that
waiting will pay
great dividends
Clock ticking ticking
A mechanical finger snap
waiting for that
message to arrive
beckoning forth
the invitation yearning
to walk that path
next chapter burning
a hole in my head
so much unsaid
yet swollen in my heart
even more than my
mindful waiting
unhesitating