Smoking Lizard is back,
confined to tennis shoes, nowadays,
no wheel in his hand while wandering,
just the feet to command
as he steers flesh.
Amid pea-soup fog,
he guides me along sidewalks
crusted over with many slick ices,
black, white, and crunchy remains
of snow never shoveled.
He turns my head,
as I shuffle along slow,
noting the idiots out driving around,
too many to count accurately,
driving like it's dry.
He makes the feet
seek the few dry spots
or salt trails dribbled out thick
where the sanders spilled loads
as they prepped roads.
His wariness is there,
that old survival instinct intact,
finding the safe places to step,
letting me note the idiots
making risky driving decisions.
One foolish pickup rolls
out from the corner convenience,
pulling out across two traffic lanes,
fishtailing into the turning zone
between double yellow lines.
Another blazing down hill
lays on his horn loud,
never trying to slow breakneck speed
having run the red light,
sliding across the road.
Both roll down windows,
scream profanities, toss hand gestures,
then keep on their destructive quest
to find an early grave,
crunching into things soon.
Another revs his engine,
sitting at the stop light,
raging at the fact he's late
not seeing how far out
his hood now sits.
All this, and more,
like ice rivers flowing wetly,
waiting to bring my aching body
down to hard, waiting concrete,
the Lizard avoids easily.
Pipe clenched between teeth,
the Lizard brain just grins,
as he dances me along paths
he's been eyeing for weeks,
knowing what inversions bring.
Face wreathed in smoke,
I let him keep control,
trusting the lizard brain's decisions utterly
against those of distracted drivers,
who text on ice.
The fog thickens more,
as I reach a goal,
the diner, where I now write,
relaying the moves of fools,
while Smoking Lizard preens,
having succeeded again
in preserving
me.
With Caution, Wisdom, and
skills honed by long decades
of being in charge while smoking.
Me, I let him gloat,
until he screws up.
HE just grins,
and puffs,
content
with getting
me safely here.
7Jan2016 - A very smug Smoking Lizard, or is that Dyfedd Rex? Never can tell after a walk like this.
Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
The Pattern Holds - A poem of warmth and friends.
I'll stay dry
for the night, despite rains
that roll in along a plume
the Pacific Ocean breathes out
this Winter's night.
Dice will roll
as with friends I spend
a bit of time and a meal
punctuated by that one word,
Yahtzee, we'll play.
Dark clouds overhead,
wet grounds will gather moisture
well needed despite the snows during December
which died amid Inversion's spell
leaving a drought.
Hope the snow
stays up the slopes now,
and the cold finally moves along North
where it is more common
and offer respite.
But the pattern
looks to hold on firmly,
a death grip tinted to Ice Age,
and the cold will pool
down in valleys.
But this night
I will stay surely warm
both inside and out, amid good friends
enjoying their companionship and food
I could bring.
29Febuary2014 - Dyfedd Rex.
for the night, despite rains
that roll in along a plume
the Pacific Ocean breathes out
this Winter's night.
Dice will roll
as with friends I spend
a bit of time and a meal
punctuated by that one word,
Yahtzee, we'll play.
Dark clouds overhead,
wet grounds will gather moisture
well needed despite the snows during December
which died amid Inversion's spell
leaving a drought.
Hope the snow
stays up the slopes now,
and the cold finally moves along North
where it is more common
and offer respite.
But the pattern
looks to hold on firmly,
a death grip tinted to Ice Age,
and the cold will pool
down in valleys.
But this night
I will stay surely warm
both inside and out, amid good friends
enjoying their companionship and food
I could bring.
29Febuary2014 - Dyfedd Rex.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Unexpected Gifts - A Poem of the Streets
It sometimes happens,
holding that cardboard after dark,
the kindness of strangers expands beyond expectations
leaving me to stand stunned
that others notice.
I never aim
for more than tomorrow's needs
as I "fly my kite" most times,
just want some hot coffee
after I rise.
Then events turn
after a slow evening standing
with just enough for half my goal
that a twenty slides out
a lowered window.
You thank them,
deeply moved, suffering some guilt
at needing to do this begging often
as Unemployment was firmly denied
when this began.
It leaves impressions,
and a motivation to succeed
at getting back on your own feet
so you can start recovering
by paying forward.
21January2014 - A grateful Dyfedd Rex, who won't fly for over a week now.
holding that cardboard after dark,
the kindness of strangers expands beyond expectations
leaving me to stand stunned
that others notice.
I never aim
for more than tomorrow's needs
as I "fly my kite" most times,
just want some hot coffee
after I rise.
Then events turn
after a slow evening standing
with just enough for half my goal
that a twenty slides out
a lowered window.
You thank them,
deeply moved, suffering some guilt
at needing to do this begging often
as Unemployment was firmly denied
when this began.
It leaves impressions,
and a motivation to succeed
at getting back on your own feet
so you can start recovering
by paying forward.
21January2014 - A grateful Dyfedd Rex, who won't fly for over a week now.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Inversion's Hallmark - A Poem of Weather and Environmental Concerns.
Came down the hill this morn,
looking towards the full moon oft,
and saw that evil calling card
telling me the Inversion's digging in.
Above the Coffee Roaster shop's roof
the smoke rose only twenty feet
then flattened out across the skyline
marking the boundary between air masses.
This is Winter's worst bit here,
that cold pooling in the valleys,
trapping in exhaust with the fogs
to make the foul smog shroud.
No longer do the mountains appear
in the distance for your enjoyment,
as that blanket of filth thickens
with the sun's move to West.
Even just blocks away veils form
along Salt Lakes broad main drags,
leaving one to wonder if snow
seeks to erase the world here.
At least, so far, the fog
has not spread into town much.
But that will come pretty soon,
as the pattern looks to hold.
Thin haze towards the foothill's slopes,
and that murky, brown gunk blocking
the middle distances speak a ton
about the air's bear trap hold.
Wonder if it's time again, friends,
to wander towards the bench tomorrow
and walk down slow with dawn
amid the veils of this city.
It will get worse later on,
and layers of air will form
like a smog triple deck sandwich
within the valley's wide, urban bowl.
Some hate it, even while enjoying
the slopes at the resorts above
being warmer than way down here,
when they sneak out for recreation.
Others complain about the air quality,
seek to limit the pollution sources.
Me, I just deal with it,
as another bad thing to survive...
...happy to wake up still alive.
17January2014 - A rather irked Dyfedd Rex, who almost thought his glasses were dirty, until others confirmed the Urban Haze is building.
looking towards the full moon oft,
and saw that evil calling card
telling me the Inversion's digging in.
Above the Coffee Roaster shop's roof
the smoke rose only twenty feet
then flattened out across the skyline
marking the boundary between air masses.
This is Winter's worst bit here,
that cold pooling in the valleys,
trapping in exhaust with the fogs
to make the foul smog shroud.
No longer do the mountains appear
in the distance for your enjoyment,
as that blanket of filth thickens
with the sun's move to West.
Even just blocks away veils form
along Salt Lakes broad main drags,
leaving one to wonder if snow
seeks to erase the world here.
At least, so far, the fog
has not spread into town much.
But that will come pretty soon,
as the pattern looks to hold.
Thin haze towards the foothill's slopes,
and that murky, brown gunk blocking
the middle distances speak a ton
about the air's bear trap hold.
Wonder if it's time again, friends,
to wander towards the bench tomorrow
and walk down slow with dawn
amid the veils of this city.
It will get worse later on,
and layers of air will form
like a smog triple deck sandwich
within the valley's wide, urban bowl.
Some hate it, even while enjoying
the slopes at the resorts above
being warmer than way down here,
when they sneak out for recreation.
Others complain about the air quality,
seek to limit the pollution sources.
Me, I just deal with it,
as another bad thing to survive...
...happy to wake up still alive.
17January2014 - A rather irked Dyfedd Rex, who almost thought his glasses were dirty, until others confirmed the Urban Haze is building.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Forecast of Perils - A poem of warning to all.
Given the coming Ice-storm predicted here in SLC tonight, folks, take heed to the guy who once lived where they often occur.....
You will fall,
no matter how sure-footed,
even with all your cautiously placed steps,
so walk with extra care
keeping elbow tucked.
When you drop,
roll to pulled in side
and seek to find the frozen ground
with shoulder blade before head,
shoulder or arm.
Let it happen,
you'll just mess up backs
trying to argue with gravity and ice
as they seek to embrace
you like bears.
Power lines collapse
under the weight after while
and with six to twelve hours predicted
just count on those blocking
your forward progress.
Lights will fail,
as it progresses wrapping limbs
of trees not really bred for such abuse
snapping them off with pops
then tackling cables.
This is hell
at least if frozen over,
an ice skater's dream to commute across
a driver's worst nightmare risen
out of darkness.
So, take heed,
stock up on rock salt,
kitty litter and other traction aiding devices
slow down your pace some
and accept it.
'Cause hurrying around
just leads to nasty accidents
and there are too many of those already
come this time of year
that flatten cheer.
Most of all,
watch out for the walkers
who will plant their fundaments very hard,
before sliding into heavy traffic
before stopping's possible.
Call it revenge
of Jack Frost for Spring
as he covers the world around you
in beautiful ice that make
for picturesque moments.
Just never forget,
even while admiring that sheathed tree
there is danger all around you tomorrow
waiting to break your bones,
or bruise pride.
18December2013 - Dyfedd Rex, praying he and the weather men blow this forecast.
You will fall,
no matter how sure-footed,
even with all your cautiously placed steps,
so walk with extra care
keeping elbow tucked.
When you drop,
roll to pulled in side
and seek to find the frozen ground
with shoulder blade before head,
shoulder or arm.
Let it happen,
you'll just mess up backs
trying to argue with gravity and ice
as they seek to embrace
you like bears.
Power lines collapse
under the weight after while
and with six to twelve hours predicted
just count on those blocking
your forward progress.
Lights will fail,
as it progresses wrapping limbs
of trees not really bred for such abuse
snapping them off with pops
then tackling cables.
This is hell
at least if frozen over,
an ice skater's dream to commute across
a driver's worst nightmare risen
out of darkness.
So, take heed,
stock up on rock salt,
kitty litter and other traction aiding devices
slow down your pace some
and accept it.
'Cause hurrying around
just leads to nasty accidents
and there are too many of those already
come this time of year
that flatten cheer.
Most of all,
watch out for the walkers
who will plant their fundaments very hard,
before sliding into heavy traffic
before stopping's possible.
Call it revenge
of Jack Frost for Spring
as he covers the world around you
in beautiful ice that make
for picturesque moments.
Just never forget,
even while admiring that sheathed tree
there is danger all around you tomorrow
waiting to break your bones,
or bruise pride.
18December2013 - Dyfedd Rex, praying he and the weather men blow this forecast.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Winter ain't here yet... - Poem of the streets
You hear the complaints:
"Overflow ain't open yet,
the families ain't left
for the Midvale shelter
for the winter months."
Amid the other talk.
The cops seem nervous,
haunting the better places
where we can crash
waiting for the pot
to boil over soon.
I hope it don't,
but it will eventually,
a day or so
when the moon's full.
Cloudy skies bode ill,
weather still damned chilly,
even opening Drunk Tank
won't cut the numbers
of those on streets
enough to really matter.
Winter ain't here yet,
but that old man
is probing the valley
with chill rains, winds
and snow last week.
Will the weather hold?
Better hope so, folks
awful lot of bodies
not geared for cold
still not safe yet.
16October2013 - Dyfedd Rex
"Overflow ain't open yet,
the families ain't left
for the Midvale shelter
for the winter months."
Amid the other talk.
The cops seem nervous,
haunting the better places
where we can crash
waiting for the pot
to boil over soon.
I hope it don't,
but it will eventually,
a day or so
when the moon's full.
Cloudy skies bode ill,
weather still damned chilly,
even opening Drunk Tank
won't cut the numbers
of those on streets
enough to really matter.
Winter ain't here yet,
but that old man
is probing the valley
with chill rains, winds
and snow last week.
Will the weather hold?
Better hope so, folks
awful lot of bodies
not geared for cold
still not safe yet.
16October2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Second Storm of year - a poem
Black Wall
Drifting overhead slow
as the storm finally
digs its way
into valley.
They Canyons
already are getting
hammered hard with rain
if not snow
higher up.
Second Storm
grinding in harsh
the threat of winter
and his weather
and chills.
Watching outside
I see trees
already golden or bare
as others change
with season.
Getting wet
is pretty inevitable
on nights like this
but I survive,
by willpower.
2October2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Drifting overhead slow
as the storm finally
digs its way
into valley.
They Canyons
already are getting
hammered hard with rain
if not snow
higher up.
Second Storm
grinding in harsh
the threat of winter
and his weather
and chills.
Watching outside
I see trees
already golden or bare
as others change
with season.
Getting wet
is pretty inevitable
on nights like this
but I survive,
by willpower.
2October2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
The grey skies arrived.
Sneaking in overnight,
cloaking the stars above
from our upward gazes
to adore Heaven's Vault.
Wet and cooler air,
aleady I see the hints
of color on the over east,
where Fall's first touch
lays out colorful dots.
Campsite was trashed
and where it wasn't,
the herd staked claims
on the little coves
where I prefer sleeping.
Cleaned what I could,
left the rest for Nature
to scrub away this week
with expected rains
these clouds promise.
This is the warning:
find a safe haven folks.
As Winter starts stretching
for his cold marathon
across us pretty soon.
Ain't where I wanted
this old boy to be
back in the spring.
No built up place,
no home in offing.
But, I enjoy cold,
as long as toes
ain't freezing until dead
or nose running constantly
to keep the pipes clear.
Third season of snows
I will spend homeless,
less the world relents
and Fate convinces Karma
I've paid for my sins.
So, when you pass by
some person holding sign
on a cold, windswept corner,
remember, it could be you
or a loved one there...
...for you're only a mistake away,
even if you don't admit it.
10September2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Sneaking in overnight,
cloaking the stars above
from our upward gazes
to adore Heaven's Vault.
Wet and cooler air,
aleady I see the hints
of color on the over east,
where Fall's first touch
lays out colorful dots.
Campsite was trashed
and where it wasn't,
the herd staked claims
on the little coves
where I prefer sleeping.
Cleaned what I could,
left the rest for Nature
to scrub away this week
with expected rains
these clouds promise.
This is the warning:
find a safe haven folks.
As Winter starts stretching
for his cold marathon
across us pretty soon.
Ain't where I wanted
this old boy to be
back in the spring.
No built up place,
no home in offing.
But, I enjoy cold,
as long as toes
ain't freezing until dead
or nose running constantly
to keep the pipes clear.
Third season of snows
I will spend homeless,
less the world relents
and Fate convinces Karma
I've paid for my sins.
So, when you pass by
some person holding sign
on a cold, windswept corner,
remember, it could be you
or a loved one there...
...for you're only a mistake away,
even if you don't admit it.
10September2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Monday, April 8, 2013
Weather is my Bane Today - A Poem of Homeless Concerns
The forecast is grim
forcing me downhill now
as snow and wind
threaten the camp tonight.
Gusts around sixty predicted
worse at canyon mouths
and along those walls
I tend to use.
Weather is my bane now,
already she veils the mountains
hiding her secrets from us.
So I seek somewhere
dry and fairly windproof
to ride out tonight
and tomorrow's promised reprise.
Worry not for me
I am a survivor.
Besides, I kept foxholes
to retreat for such.
Weather is my bane tonight,
as She seeks to rattle
my nerves with her breath.
Oh, send canyon winds
for I have hidden
in places spoken soft
to prevent others poaching.
I watch with concern
as the snowline descends
down below my camp
measuring delays of return.
Weather is my foe today
Her reach seeking to chill
my ardor for those foothills.
But I will definitely return.
8April2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Playing with Weather Magic - A poem of Warning
They asked, despite my warnings...
Knowing I can touch clouds
twisting them to my desires
my family begged for precipitation
even as I reminded them
of the storms such stir.
Cupping hand over trembling hand
I felt the ley lines
racing through the skies above
hairs raising as power surged
through fingers that twitched about
seeking to make them respond.
Now the results land there
the weather folk speak up
about the mixing of elements
to build a storm there
but I know the Truth...
I touched the forbidden powers.
Our storm faltered out here
shredded by my questing reach
to bend the weather around
make it do my bidding.
So now the fury roars
across the prairies of home.
So, tomorrow as you shovel
amid the cold, howling winds,
I remind my kinfolk sternly
and my kith as well
be careful what you wish
for Murphy messes up magic.
19December2012 - Dyfedd Rex
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Thoughts roamed away - a poem of cold mornings
It got away...
I had this idea
just the gist of a poem
rolling around amid the skull boulders
but removed my hat
letting it escape.
I chased around
looking like a fool
trying to track damned thing down
but it left so few tracks
amid the light dew
never found it.
Sitting down now
waiting nervously to see
if it will wander back here
under its own or never again
wishing just one thing..
Warmer morning air....
so I can write things down.
8December2012 - Dyfedd Rex
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Long-term Forecast, still doubting - a poem of lies, damned lies, statistics and WAGs.
Lingering dusting and more
lying up above me
warns me to remember
that Meteorology, despite claims
is not a Science.
Rather, she's an Art
inspired by capricious muses
who ask us all
to tell whopping lies
whilst keeping straight faces.
So I glance warily
at that long-term forecast
knowing it mostly guesses
that make up details
that promise warmer temps.
Better to place trust
for the next season
in the migrating birds
who sent clear message
Why stay here, fool.
Cold toes, frozen fingers
broken zippers, mismatched gloves
down the check list
my fingers shiver along
for heeding mans' prevarications.
28Oct2012 - Dyfedd Rex, the shivering despite warming sun.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Winter's Minions Are Here - A poem of fall and fear
The colors do not explode
across the landscape this fall.
It is more an implosion
brief in nature and destructive
though some trees do better
shining for more days now
than its neighbors seem able.
Then the blizzard truly begins
with the brown and dead
falling to the ground softly
before being whipped by winds
to scatter away from trees
where they once resided calmly
until Winter sent his minions.
Fall and the Killing Frost
dancing around me with joy
telling me that soon indeed
their Master will rule here
driving me down the foothills
to seek safer marginally better
places to sleep each night.
Now the games truly begin
the war between this man
and the ravages Winter brings
to the campsite, and flesh
where the chill settles in
seeking to freeze joints solid
as life's spark dies away.
19Oct2012 - Dyfedd Rex
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Sunning in Plaza of Winter
I sit here now
basking in the warm rays
wondering if this is the life
sipping soda time to time
as muscles slowly unclench.
It feels damned good
this lazy moment I steal
sunning in the Plaza of Winter
surrounded by remnant snow piles
below the Wind's line.
It's not Summer's Plaza
at least not right now
no, the trees are bare branched
and everyone so bundled up
not like weeks ago.
Then there were more
who sat here waiting patiently
for the library's doors to open
soaking in the weekend sun
laughing and happy folks.
But Winter came finally
his cold cloak of fogs
driving them away or into shells
that hide the warm smiles
until they break through.
Despite the chilly air
I roll up my sleeves
tip back my hat with care
leaning against this big pile
that is my wealth.
Deep breaths slowly taken
shivering at scraps of chill
as scud clouds announce another storm
fueled by this short warming
ending my short rest.
Yet I tarry longer
denying the inevitable its moment
sucking in a few last rays
storing them for later release
huddled under Winter's blanket.
As the temperature drops
the other brave souls flee
seeking shelter elsewhere to warm in
as I gather my gear
still waiting to depart.
The smell of precipitation
may be in the air
filling my nose with its softness
and that little tongue zinger
that marks snow's coming.
A simple break occurs
letting down a few minutes
of Winter's cold sunshine to warm
this lost soul who wanders
before he forts up.
At last I leave
steps reluctant as I go
wondering when the next heat wave
will let me sit out
on the Plaza again.
(15 JAN 2012 - Dyfedd Rex)
Well, after the long dry spell caused by a frozen to death power supply (yep, they really mean you should not expose a laptop to sub-freezing conditions), I am back at it again. This poem, and several more to come, came about during the lack of communications and digital preservation. Enjoy them as you wish folks...
Monday, December 26, 2011
Who says the Robins leave til spring
Folklore and science both tell lies
about the natural world around me
telling me things are always so
when my eyes relate something else
seen amid the branches and snows.
Yes indeed this is my question
Who says the Robins really leave
not to return until Spring's warmth
for just before burning Yule's Log
doing a bit of late yard work
two came down to eat bugs
stirred up by my hard labor
to become their breaking of fast.
If they are wrong about this,
then what other things they say
will smell of that cattle by-product
and force me to call them
on spewing out fertilizer when talking.
(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
about the natural world around me
telling me things are always so
when my eyes relate something else
seen amid the branches and snows.
Yes indeed this is my question
Who says the Robins really leave
not to return until Spring's warmth
for just before burning Yule's Log
doing a bit of late yard work
two came down to eat bugs
stirred up by my hard labor
to become their breaking of fast.
If they are wrong about this,
then what other things they say
will smell of that cattle by-product
and force me to call them
on spewing out fertilizer when talking.
(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
Monday, December 19, 2011
The Dance of Inversion's Airs - a Poem of Weather
Dawn on the Wasatch Front can be strange
during the short days of Winter's chill rule
for amid inversion's fog light takes strange paths
making distant lights seem to dance about wildly
amid the branches of the trees just outside
as I sip my coffee slowly to come awake
wondering if this is the end of it all
for the chaos out there rules so supreme
that there is no order left to see
save the gentle motions of twigs gently swaying
as the fog sheds moisture as snow flurries
and the breath of Winter touches the flakes
to give them just a bit of angle
amid the hanging ice crystals of the smog
as the sun breaks through for short bursts
to light it all up in crazy patterns
leaving me to sit here if total wonder
of how the air can be so beautiful.
(12/19/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
during the short days of Winter's chill rule
for amid inversion's fog light takes strange paths
making distant lights seem to dance about wildly
amid the branches of the trees just outside
as I sip my coffee slowly to come awake
wondering if this is the end of it all
for the chaos out there rules so supreme
that there is no order left to see
save the gentle motions of twigs gently swaying
as the fog sheds moisture as snow flurries
and the breath of Winter touches the flakes
to give them just a bit of angle
amid the hanging ice crystals of the smog
as the sun breaks through for short bursts
to light it all up in crazy patterns
leaving me to sit here if total wonder
of how the air can be so beautiful.
(12/19/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Lifting my Kamforka against Winter - a poem
The long twilight settles
the colors of fall dim
as the light slowly fades
the reds the last standing
though lower down near me
the golds and greens stay
a bit longer as the herald
the change coming shortly
as Old Man Winter sends
his herald Autumn Snows
to make another call here.
The U glares above me
sitting at the highest bench
a beacon for the twilight hours
as the change fills bones
with that dread even yet
though the air is not cold
just a bit chilled for now
but that moment is coming
when morn will be white
even on the valley's floor.
Sky shifts from crips azure
down through indigo shades
on its way to deep black
as the day quits the world
to seek another place to play
and I am left wandering still
in search of who I am now
and next must become
in this performance called Life
we all walk through seemingly blind.
The lights begin to glow
as Night spreads out her quilt
and the windows and lamps
glow forth a warmer light
that still speaks of coldness
as the air takes on a crispness
that lends to my coming foe
his greatest weapon of all
that of others being safe
while risk it all each night.
But I have my own arsenal
one of warmth from within
I light up the spirit fire
and lift my personal kamforka
aloft above my bowed head
in praise of the beauty
I had the honor to just see
of the change from day
into night once more,
knowing dawn will surely be
just as gorgeous to see.
(10/2011)
the colors of fall dim
as the light slowly fades
the reds the last standing
though lower down near me
the golds and greens stay
a bit longer as the herald
the change coming shortly
as Old Man Winter sends
his herald Autumn Snows
to make another call here.
The U glares above me
sitting at the highest bench
a beacon for the twilight hours
as the change fills bones
with that dread even yet
though the air is not cold
just a bit chilled for now
but that moment is coming
when morn will be white
even on the valley's floor.
Sky shifts from crips azure
down through indigo shades
on its way to deep black
as the day quits the world
to seek another place to play
and I am left wandering still
in search of who I am now
and next must become
in this performance called Life
we all walk through seemingly blind.
The lights begin to glow
as Night spreads out her quilt
and the windows and lamps
glow forth a warmer light
that still speaks of coldness
as the air takes on a crispness
that lends to my coming foe
his greatest weapon of all
that of others being safe
while risk it all each night.
But I have my own arsenal
one of warmth from within
I light up the spirit fire
and lift my personal kamforka
aloft above my bowed head
in praise of the beauty
I had the honor to just see
of the change from day
into night once more,
knowing dawn will surely be
just as gorgeous to see.
(10/2011)
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Winter's Warning Shot
Winter's first brush by
and the warm returns.
But for how long
and will I survive
living as I am
day by slow day
walking, waiting and worrying
if that one job
will at last fall
into my shaking hands?
Winter's first warning shot
as I camp out
with tarp and blanket
under some conifer tree
who's location I keep
away from all here
so I can return
and use it again
for a while longer
without losing it forever.
Summer's last call here
a short warm period
before the autumn settles
bringing its own issues
upon my weary head
as I wander slowly
around this busy place
seeking more hidden places
to use as shelter
when the winter comes.
Autumn's beauty around me
in changing colors bright
as the trees slip
into their long slumber
but I still move
amid and below them
seeking release a way
that will keep me
safe through until spring
and warm air's return.
Winter's melting calling card
still on high places
for a little while
reminding me the dangers
that will soon fall
upon me in earnest
unless God grants again
his grace upon me
lifting me genlty out
of this dark time.
Spring's echo still rings
in a few flowerbeds
where yellows and golds
reds and neon oranges
glow their last days
but this morning held
their death on blades
of deep green grass
coated in white frost
as summer finally ends.
and the warm returns.
But for how long
and will I survive
living as I am
day by slow day
walking, waiting and worrying
if that one job
will at last fall
into my shaking hands?
Winter's first warning shot
as I camp out
with tarp and blanket
under some conifer tree
who's location I keep
away from all here
so I can return
and use it again
for a while longer
without losing it forever.
Summer's last call here
a short warm period
before the autumn settles
bringing its own issues
upon my weary head
as I wander slowly
around this busy place
seeking more hidden places
to use as shelter
when the winter comes.
Autumn's beauty around me
in changing colors bright
as the trees slip
into their long slumber
but I still move
amid and below them
seeking release a way
that will keep me
safe through until spring
and warm air's return.
Winter's melting calling card
still on high places
for a little while
reminding me the dangers
that will soon fall
upon me in earnest
unless God grants again
his grace upon me
lifting me genlty out
of this dark time.
Spring's echo still rings
in a few flowerbeds
where yellows and golds
reds and neon oranges
glow their last days
but this morning held
their death on blades
of deep green grass
coated in white frost
as summer finally ends.
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