Our Bluebird Friends

around and around the bluebirds fly like vultures

squawking at the tiny wrens occupying their house,

mistress and I on the porch swing sit witnessing the spectacle

she with her listening device                                                      

I with a pad and pen recording the event

not doing justice to what we see

writing my interpretation of the battle

of which none of our neighbors seem to care;

it was only yesterday it seems when in one of my spurts of energy

I set about fixing the decaying rails of our deck

and after a week when I was sweaty and tired

noticed if the board were turned over and sanded would have 

appeared as good as new or close enough not to matter,

and so, as any good conservative would do

I conjured up a plan to use an old board or two

and when the sun had left its toll on the day,

realized that I had build a very fine home for bluebirds,

so down with the old I did the next day and hung up the new one

just in time for a couple to fly our way;

over the next few days, I watched these winged stranger

work hour after hour to build a nest and once completed

I had always assumed they had become our guests,

but it was not until today that I realized maybe it was another couple

who had decided to occupy a newly build home

leaving the bluebirds without a home of their own...

and so I watched with great delight when I finally realized

my bluebirds friends had won their fight and that those tiny wrens

had decided to sojourn to another valley glen.

3 November 2020

Mood Whispers

my mood whispers its intent over coffee

as down the path of memories I walk

reflecting over decisions made and those

that were left behind for another day;

my mood relaxes its intent with each cup

as the day whither and pass like fall leaves

that fall to the ground after serving purpose

and are raked up by those needing exercise;

my mood tumbles and turns, rolling this

way and that way to avoid discussions,

knowing that the time will come where

it will confront its previous moods;

my mood has no retaliatory defense as

rules my subconscious memories and

dredges up those with which it is most

conflicted and in need of replacement;

my mood generates my attitudes and

attitudes inflate my personalities and

my personalities impacts my actions 

that so often cause me mental anguish;

my mood abandons its resolve and I

am left with foster ideas and fancies

that attract my conscious attention and

I react as I had had no coffee at all.

3 November 2020

A Morning Sojourn

down the road a mile or two I walked without a cane

feeling the sun and wind at my back pushing me on,

turning right onto a dirt road as birds mocked my presence

and a deer or two quickly jumped out-of-my-sight;

further down the dirt road I walked looking left and right

seeing nothing of interest on either side yet continued...

an old dead tree laid down its life in front of me

and a slithering snake slide inside its wooden coffin;

Oak, Birch, and Maple leaves stuck to the ground

and a nearby sassafras trees rose under a Dogwood

not trying to hide its noticeable leaves from me;

a shelter stood in a clearing off to the left and

furrowed ground off to the right...

its peaks frosted by the morning dew not melted away,

and with a sigh of relief I ventured forward as if

Marco Polo had been my father and taught me everything

except how to keep warm in a chilly morning breeze...

and as I ventured forward and further into the day

I came across a silver lake all smooth and forlorn

and there were no duck strolling on the pond

as I was lead to believe and not cranes either

as the old lady at the grocery store had warned

after giving me all my direction and a candy bar;

it was a pleasant walk and not too far it seemed

although I could have walked it quicker if I had a mind to

but it was just a walk to get me away from all the

clamor and glamour of moving to a new neighborhood.

November 2, 2020

Mill Pond Glen

How fast and furious is the wind that

blows down through the valley glen

Where bushes linger by a moonlit pond

Where bass with open mouths swim by and

Farm boys too small to ride a bike sit on

 the water's edge with bamboo fishing poles

And as the darkest night turns into day

birds leave their nests and into the wind they fly

Past the boy and his fishing pole

Past the pond no longer lit by the moon

Past the unaware large mouth bass nearby

And into the windy sky they fly

Upwards and upwards they soar

As if they had been shot from a catapult

That may have laid siege to a city during the war

But there is no war in this valley glen

Since the civilian war of the 1860's when

Brother fought brother and sisters did the healing

And yet, we all still grieve for our losses

As if nature had played a silly trick on us

Leaving us all with no more reason to hate.

November 2, 2020

Hobbies

 Golf...

           I never wanted

                 to learn how to play

                        always thought it was silly;

Skiing...

         I never had the

                had the coordination

                       to keep me from getting hurt;

Writing...

               is what I do

                              AND

               it matters not

                       if I am good or bad

                                        BECAUSE

                       it is what I do;

Reading...

                certain topics entertains me, like:

                     theoretical physics

                          quantum mechanics

                               cosmic consciousness

Hobbies...

                we all have them, I suppose...                        

Windy Days

a world of wind blows strongly through

my screened-in porch of observations,

announcing an end to this year's summer;

we prepare reluctantly for the winter

months that we know are ahead of us,

dreading each cold day with trepidation;

clouds of hope no longer pass our way

overhead on their journey south and the

warmth of the sun's new heavenly angle;

birds hide in newly build houses made

from the wood of a rotten deck on top

of which their old home once stood;

flowers whither and die and dead leaves

fall from the ancient trees that once

upon a time were mere seedlings planted;

roads of doubt stream through my

consciousness as I connect with the

cosmic world just above my head;

thoughts of the previous are filtered

through my open mind as I connect with

those who were once here and about;

in dreams they appear out of the ordinary

and are formulated around the ideology

on previous windy days were encountered.

31 October 2020

Cold Blues

the cold penetrates

the wind chills

the liquid warms

and I sit outside on

the porch of many dollars

that only keeps out the flies;

a fat cat scurries across

the room spurred on by

lowered temperatures

stopping briefly to

look at singing birds

sitting on the deck;

bushes stand rigid

trees wear solemn frowns

losing their leaves as

one loses their hair

living out one's time;

clouds form in the sky

observing the storm

that has yet to arrive

preventing the sun from

doing its duty until

the springtime comes;

fall is an amusing time

before the winter steps

off the bus for vacation

and we adjust our lives

accordingly not wanting

to sit outside without

sweatshirt and toboggan.

30 October 2020

Meant To Be

with arms crossed in resistance

I sit stoically in silence

staring out at the dark houses

where the inside residents

have not begun their day,

pondering and wondering

about nothing in particular

other than the "why" we are here

but not in the sense of purpose

but in the sense of situation;

reflecting on the past

the words that were said

or not said...  and

all the actions that were taken

achieving nothing yet

served to make our lives worse

in the sense of hatred

and the belief that all of this

all of what we have

is somehow wrong and

should never have happened

neither being able to explain

in a way that made sense

that it was meant to be.

28 October 2020

Life Changes

we live inside walls

inside barriers

protecting or hiding

from reality;

we seize the moment

but not the day

hoping others will

carry the torch

the fuels the flames

of change;

we dive into water

but not into truth

avoiding that which

we dislike,

seeing our future

protected by

those we like;

we hang our clothes

in closets of hate

while preaching

otherwise each

Sunday...

thinking no one

pays attention

to our ignorance.

27 October

Staying Home

silence permeates

fog lingers

dogs bark at shadows

light opens sight

we fight and scream

at opinions

far too silly to win

disputes of likes

and dislikes

and mornings spent

with others...

silence lingers

fog permeates

shadows stalk dogs

dark closes in

and as we sleep

we look forward

to awakening

and have it all

begin again.

27 October 2020