Things I'll miss on weekends = A poem of walking away

Weekends once filled
spending time with a buddy
watching the various college and pro games
now will be silent times
communing with Nature.

Saturday's ache already
as the game nights fade
lost to my situation and growing isolation
even before heading to hills
to winter over.

Sunday morning coffee
the last few warm cups
are savored before I'm reduced to instant
and have to drink cold
those lonely cups.

Friday Bar Nights,
long ago abandoned by me
will be remembered during forced abstinence soon
as I seek only stars
for my company.

Dark roads ahead,
Dangers I cannot dream of
or have and still dare those trails
that will become my home
during snowy season.

These few things,
once taken for granted weekly,
I will miss out there, under skies
dark enough to allow stars
to be companions.

Wrapping it up,
shutting down my old lives
all of them, not just homeless days
to walk away with resolution
that things will
improve once
I'm alone,
and settled
into hole
like turtle
closing shell
to hibernate
until found
by Spring
and warmth.

Turtle Rehab - a Tongue-in-Cheek Poem

First, this guy needs an intro, after all, he inspired this poem.....
http://www.npr.org/2011/12/26/144283361/endangered-turtle-survives-trans-atlantic-journey

now, here is what I got from all his hoopla,

Saw a news article about a sea turtle that caught a ride on some seaweed over to far side of the pond, place called Portugal, from its normal haunts in the Caribbean. The said the thing had been through rehab and was to be released, and that made me ask a strange question....

What the hell was he in rehab for and how does turtle rehab work?

Here is my answer, probably not right, try not to laugh too much......

He was young and dumb then
swimming out too far too often
until one day near the Sargasso
he found his strength was failing
so he jumped on some seaweed
and noted it moved with currents
thus the legend of being lazy
came about from his long journey.

Day after day he lay there
dropping off only a few times
to grab a bite to eat
or cool off in the water
after laying all day like humans
did on beaches his folk needed
to breed and lay their eggs
drifting on the currents without effort

At last after many full moons
he found a new sandy stretch
along a shore that was strange
not the warm place of hatching
but cooler and with shorter days
where he hung out for weeks
until the humans caught his butt
and shipped him back to home.

They figured out how he traveled
after he tried it once more
but that box on his shell
told them where he was headed
so they sent out a ship
and hauled him back to shore
where they set him down firmly
and talked to him about home.

Now, this turtle, he couldn't care
nor did they check his answers
to see if he really reformed
so when the day came finally
and his freedom was given back
he waited for a passing boat
using the propeller to scrape free
that silly box the people attached.

I wonder if that turtle pshychologist
will write up a paper soon
about his wonderful program of treatment
until he is forced to retract it
as our wandering pal turns up
perhaps on the Riviera this time
or some Greek island's warm bays
sunning himself with a turtle smirk.

I hope to read that paper
I kind of want to know
what Turtle Rehab is really like
and if he got federal dough
to support him like the others
who go through twelve step programs
and wash out or fall back
upon their old ways once done.

I imagine we will soon see
just how effective it really was
but I like my own vision
of him laying once more time
upon a raft of thick seaweeds
acting like an explorer of old
seeking new lands to settle upon
even if just for a while.

(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)