A Walk in the Woods....

A Walk in the Woods

On a day of vernal greenery

that borders posing scattered rocks

Spring renews hope in me

as ever looming mortality, I mock

I journey on a gently curving path

I hear noisy rattle echoes

'Tis a chime-like sound easy to grasp

of a Kingfisher lurking in a woodsy grove

Near the trail on my solitary stroll

water ripples under loose winds

My gaze is fixed on flashing gold

as it tempers the hidden Fishers ring

Depth of sky is reflected in the rushing water

that borders this serene domain

My awareness is engulfed by the golden fire

wrapped in the reflected roundness aflame

A ratatat, ratatat, ratatat, is heard clearly

deep in the woods it sounds

muffled by leaves unfolding early

a Northern Flicker drums on a dead branch found

Precious treasures along the trail

stimulate my senses as I journey slowly

hoping to see the Flicker sail

while he flashes his red crescent along the way

This season of renewed resilience

displays buds popping in every nook

growing in shaded silence

along the slowly flowing brook

The branch strewn path

winds and leads to a sunlit meadow

where shadows dance on blades of grass

the refreshing spring air is mellow

it mingles among wild flowers

and becomes part of natures masterpiece

New life is born of seasonal ardor

as it emerges from winter's sleep

Cascading puffs of cotton ball clouds

cling to mountain sides above the moor

The hidden summit mist bound cannot be found

it pierces the translucent curtain of a heavenly floor

White pines pregnant with pollen

dust the primrose and its thorns

and stand guard over brown cones fallen

as the Blue Jay sings his morning song

Needles of pine, gold and brown

are scattered among boulders found

as if by magic laid down

marking the path that winds around

through a ghostly birch stand

conspicuous among the deep green pine

A gentle breeze whispers silent words I understand

while I travel feeling good in Springtime

Sunshine daggers stab through forest gaps

and I suddenly see blue skies

twigs I step on noisily snap

and feathered dwellers fly

I hear the song of chickadees

notice the shadows of branches on the ground

Hear the wind coursing among the trees

There is only me, no one else around

Farther ahead the trail disappears

and is replaced by the flowing stream

a gurgling sound fills my ears

and it seems to softly speak

as it cascades under a fallen tree

and between my now chilled feet

I stand happily in its crystal purity

In this majestic shrine of unbound beauty

I've experienced mother natures identity

DEMENTIA.....

DEMENTIA

When he opened the door

cobwebs stretched in the yawning gap

Insects fell to the floor

and inner darkness streamed past

It leaked into the morning light

quickly smothering reality

shading life's purpose from sight

and stole his identity

No longer did he know facts

inherent truths seen by his very eyes

like the flame from a lit match

now that darkness absorbed the light

An unwilling prisoner in dark woods

he sought traces of his past

searched as hard as he could

while in this condition cast

His mind was a gray light

receding like a glaciers retreat

and as tomorrow loomed in sight

it forecast doom of mind complete

That Place....Revision #4.......

That Place

There is a place where depth of soul

Lives quietly, I've been told

'Tis a place between night and day

where all spirits like to stay

There, the spectral sound of words

is felt instead of heard

and neural net letters become granite

to be used in wisdom or wit

'Tis a place where thoughts reflect in mirrors

until their focused substance harbors

moments frozen in cerebral lightning

and dreams of wishful things

in silent whispers at midnight still

become reality that floats on wings

In that land of shifting shadows

life noises eerily blow

and course through the minds valleys and hills

while elapsed time sends an icy chill

that wanders in another dimension

and unfolds in slow-motion

Colors enter this dream condition

creating a temporary infection

where great distances become nothing

and nothing feels like a heavenly thing

The song of out of body existence flows

over granite stones in hidden meadows

where spirit lovers joyfully meet

and blend together without deceit

'Tis a place where the kiss of life

with all its earthly strife

stands alone and untouched

and the sexuality of the flesh is rebuffed

In this place, life is death

and seeking the light is no longer a quest

as the glorious soul is all awareness

that absorbs and eliminates life's darkness

Highway 66.....

Highway 66

The screaming wind never reached my ears

the swaying traffic light didn't care

as its colors danced in the night air

A lifetime of memories beyond repair

flashed in the rear view mirror of advanced years

Ahead of me through the windshield glare

I imagined the journey without fear

Miles and miles of asphalt delight

stretched the limit of my sight

the hazy road released my spirit

 as I travelled route sixty-six

Widely scattered rest stops I never missed

as they added to my journeys bliss

With rubber rolling unbound

the nomad within covered new ground

and in obscure towns, more or less

I laid my body down to rest

Endless caravans of moving steel didn't smother

my hopes and desires

to drink deeply the Western air

and watch the Pacific coast appear

W.W.W. com

W.W.W. com

Mind pulses from my fingers

release the spirit to keyboard letters

letters become words on the flickering screen

ghostly projections from the soul unseen

The dreary nights piercing winds

push slanted rain against the window sill

blue haze drapes the laptop light

Shapes on screen quickly dart

I compose prose mostly unread

as the night buries what I've said

My creations ride the wire

in spontaneous ignition of global fire

my thoughts burn on the web

for the global consumption of the midnight dead

This conflagration suits me just fine

as strangers can feel what's mine

drink from my flowing juices

and quench their thirst for word abuses

With obscure prose written

I wish to resurrect words often forgotten

preserve the eloquence of the written form

and save them from the ever present literary storm

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