The nearby mountains sing of life in the foothills,

Not much beats the stellar’s jay and squirrel’s shrill,

The lurking clouds hold a bold chorus key,

The murky shores echo local forestry,

All join together with wind and the sunshine,

The lake and our fate orchestrate for this one time

Finding the Light like a Crow’s Flight (December 2013)

I live in the shadow of my own dream,

For days and days I climb over mounds of

Buried plans, mud-sliding under my feet,

A giant excavator is pouring,

Obstacles of truth, and my boot gets stuck,

Just like a child at play, I leave the boot,

Now wallowing in piles of ideas,

And so filthy, I cannot go to school,

A mess, marked by the mire of the shadows,

Going back to retrieve my sure-footing,

What would the classmates say, or the teachers?

‘Just go home son, and come back tomorrow’,

This is not a choice for me now, adult,

There is no tomorrow, only here and now,

…..

Covered in half-baked mud and crud, I rise,

Can you question the state of the worker?

Fresh from the job, in constant toil, no rest,

Make no assumptions with all I have seen,

I climb to the top of the slope, grabbing

The roots of trees hanging where mud erodes,

Scrambling for the light of my goals and dreams,

My fingernails thick with dirt, I climb up,

And soon lay past the treacherous incline,

Panting, gasping, sweaty, covered in grime,

Sit up:  look for the success of such steps,

A full forest shields the light that I look for,

Dense woods, cedar and pine scraping the sky,

I can hear the echo of my own hopes,

I walk through grass and brush,

The fierce scolding of a crow reaches me

…..

The sun sets far beyond tangled forests,

It is getting late – I will take no chance,

The dark forest may go on endlessly,

I face the night in the clearing,

And free myself from false comforts,

Branches that shelter from the weather,

But block the sky’s certain truth,

I wait for the moon to tell the future,

I have been right: tomorrow does not begin,

I sleep in the barren wilderness with dark dreams,

In the morning, the sun rises again: Today,

…..

Steam follows, orange, and magenta skies,

Even the shadows hide, on my day of thoughts,

Save the brilliance of the screeching crow,

That clears the silence and wakes the day,

I am free now, to search the forest for truth,

Even to look far for the other side,

Today I tread over mulch, branches and leaves,

Skip across creeks, and reach down to taste cold water,

Wash my face in the mountain run-off,

Try to make sense of it all, and build plans,

What will I do with the light and the night?

Who will be the guide: the sun, moon or stars?

When the path is a reflection, like in the moon,

Is our shadow more awake?

……

Or do we live in a more pure form, as we always follow the sun?

As the truth builds mountains: can we dig through?

Or climb over, respected for our work,

Aware of the dangers of the forest at night,

Face the black, cold midnight that lays out dreams to follow in the day,

Not fearful of visions of darkness,

That boldly shape our waking hours,

We make our decisions wise each day,

By embracing spirit beyond our fabricated fears,

Dreams hold clear ties to the light, the night

and follow the crow’s flight

Freedom can provide us with opportunities to observe nature,

Freedom is intermittent,

Like rain, it may start in a torrent,

Or leave as a mist,

It can come and go in gusts,

Or hover in the clouds indefinitely,

The drought is wicked,

Floods can be worse,

Then we gather our senses

 

 

*******

Had to finish these twitter poems.  I’m thinking of writing other works, if I get some free time!

Freedom, to me depends on mood and situation more than anything. If anxiety or suffering creeps in, parts of freedom, or some perception/visions of freedom can fade.

Senses bring us in tune with nature and the daily weather,

It’s an awareness of beauty, and at times, savage power,

Nature is everything,

Pollution, cities, and people are nature,

Humans are creatures that impact,

Everything,

All that is,

Spirit, material, paradox and all human perception: Nature