I took a hike up in the woods, to name the trees and plants.
The falling leaves, the autumn chill and golden sun entranced.
I traced a path, through brush and vine, along the mountain’s edge
The sumac and the maple trees cast red hues on the ledge.
Again, today, I’m ambling deep among the trees and stream.
The colors here are gentle soft, like memory of a dream.
I sit upon a fallen tree and taste the mossy scent,
And watch the light that dances on the golden leaves’ descent.
Every time I get a chance, I’ll do this walk again,
And share time with the breezy chorus of nature’s perfect Zen.
The feel of autumn’s cooling air, and earthy mists descending,
The scent of leaves and needles make a special magic, lending
A feeling of great comfort as the woods wind down with me.
They love enough to share my mood, in soft camaraderie.
Monthly Archives: October 2014
The Tie
He was folding the thin end of the gold and auburn, autumn themed silk tie over the wider end, just above the second button. The collar button was still open, because his neck had grown slightly larger than the shirt would comfortably allow. He was excited about the dinner engagement, tonight. Maybe, it’s a little early to dip his toe back in the romantic waters, but somehow he felt ready.
Ever since Chuck had left three weeks ago, he felt the sense of elation and freedom. Though they had been together for four years, the flames had turned to embers, and the embers turned to ash. By the time the decision was made, it was clear to both that things between them had been over for a long time. The surprise to him was that Chuck called it first.
Now, he felt like a kid again. All those things he wanted to do, but felt responsible to stay home with Chuck instead, were now available to him. Shows he wanted to see, men he wanted to date, men he wanted to fuck, all out there, and now, so was he.
Tonight’s dinner with Alex, was a bit of a surprise too. They met in line at the local burger slam, both with a bit of shame for even being there, and they shared a meal of burgers and fries, giggling helplessly, telling childhood fart jokes and stories of crazy relatives.
They agreed to do dinner together, as a kind of dress-up special night. It was something neither had done in years. “Suit and tie,” Alex had said, “Bring on the good stuff.” He actually wasn’t sure where they were going, but his excitement made his fingers shake a little.
As he restarted the knot for the third time, he thought about dates like tonight and some of the guys he’d met online, that he hoped to get together with. Amazingly some very hot men lived not very far from him. He realized how much the closeness of his close dependence on Chuck blinded him to the beauty of the world around, and now, it was his to savor.
He looked in the mirror expecting to be proud and ready to face this world of many wonders, but still, the knot was crooked. The excited shaking in his hands became a tremor.
“But, who will tie my tie?”
Words tripping
The words came tripping, tumbling, rolling over each other pushing their way out, trying to be first, but each one just came behind the next, until they were all mixed up, almost backwards. They came in flows of syllables and bitterness and tears and whines and loneliness and hiccuping breaths and ‘I’m sorries’ and snot. They emptied themselves like a bad fish dinner, spilling out over the phone and leaving their malodorous mark on the countertop and floor.
I don’t know what they’re saying or what they’re doing but I’m crying and trying to keep them under control as they spill, and tumble, and vault and stab.. And then, once completely purged, there is nothing but a silence that I don’t know how to handle.
I was certain he’d hung up on me, and that this tirade was for naught, other than perhaps to vent my spleen, but that would not move me forward at all. The obvious next step would be to say “hello?” But that itself felt like a form of defeat, like I was expecting him to be gone, to be overwhelmed with my weirdness and sadness and inability to cope and he would be unclear where it all came from. The silence ticked on for a few more moments, and then I heard him say, “I’m sorry.”
My hands were shaking enough that the phone rattled on my ear, but I still heard the words loud and strong and comforting. I was reunited. I was reunited with the fact that I love this man, and that my angst was just a symptom of how close we are and how distant we are and how much I feared the space between us, and because of how much I depend on him, and how easy it is, sometimes, for small hurts to become big walls.
And those two words were him coming back to my rescue, once again, offering me a way out from that stupid place that I keep going and staying. Again, he was right there where he’s needed.
My words, having had their say, became still in my mouth and in my head.
Why are you here?
Why are you here?
What do you mean?
I said, why are you here?
Do we need to have this discussion, again?
Why do you think we keep having it?
Because I’m here?
So now, you’re getting smart?
Do you want me out?
I’ve told you before.
Well, I’m leaving, now.
Don’t forget milk.
I won’t. I never do.
Light Painting
Light painting uses long exposures in dark places to allow selective lighting to highlight objects or parts of objects, provide a different perspective, and to represent motion and color, in ways that cannot be done in a single fast frame. I’m still working on timing and brightness, but here is a sample of some of the results. More work is needed.
Be the tree
An Ode to My Other Companion
You, bitter trinity, long I have wed.
Our courtship started early in my years.
Your whispers, claiming you are truth, have led
Me to make you the author of my tears.
Dear Darkness, Sadness, Worry, as one you carve
The mortise to my tenon, joining me
Into your lifelong, seamless structure, fast.
That we are joined, not one, is hard to see,
With subtle signs that only few observe.
The love around us, silently, you starve,
Ensuring my fidelity will last.
Cruel Darkness, you faithless, possessive love,
Abandoning your consort to the light,
Then, jealously, you count the cost thereof,
To take your ounce of flesh in bitter spite.
You, alone, can change the world. Your power,
To refine the greatest brightness into dross.
The shining hills, the taste of apricot,
The lilting song, the lace of morning frost,
The magic kiss of love, the dew crowned flower,
the Sun Itself of marvelous strength, all cower.
With murky veil, you dim the shining lot.
Cold Worry, how your countenance comes forth,
Appearing with the first shade of a doubt.
Your vap’rous chill, descended from the north,
Instills penetrating fear throughout.
The future, only mist, you make a ghost,
That haunts tomorrow’s doorway with a dread,
And tells me, “through this threshold is despair.”
You, thief of night who chains me to my bed,
Do tear the gentle respite from its host.
To sleep, I sign a contract made for Faust,
With this aching soul, the bargain seems quite fair.
Sadness, you strum the lyre inside my breast.
The pitch is harsh, with dissonant refrain.
The clamorous noise, an overstayed guest,
That sings to me my failures, losses, pain.
You steal the day, and take me to a place
Regret becomes the main fare of this blight,
Seasoned through with bitter herbs of grief.
Your artist’s hand sculpts darkest moments bright,
Mistakes and wrongs once just a feeble trace,
Now chiseled deep into my fragile grace.
I never can make those trespasses right.
And so, great Trinity, you part of me,
Our intimacy is my greatest shame.
Though I cannot imagine being free,
The emptiness in me Is not your blame.
As with others of your wretched kind,
You dance eccentric waltzes with my heart.
I lately tasted of your apogee,
With your retreat to cold and distant parts.
Days of warming hope, redefined,
Stitched with fragile threads into my mind.
But then, you bound me with your gravity.
Crocus
The second crocus from the right
appeared with morning splendor, bright.
Its flower, a purple filigree
On pale blue petals three and three.
It rose from winter’s faint remains
And pierced the meadow’s snowy stains.
I saw the field aglow with light
Of gold and lavender and white.
And darkness from the evening letting
Starlight from Orion’s setting
Glitter off each iridescence
Marking winter’s obsolescence.
How proud it was to be so clear
So sure that it outshone its peer
It looked around and saw its glow,
Was casting color on the snow.
But then its pride was interrupted,
A sea of other flowers erupted,
Making it just one of dozens
A sibling in a pack of cousins.
Within a week, I wasn’t sure
Which ones I’d seen the day before.
But I know that it caught my sight,
The second crocus on the right.
Icarus
Feathers were strong and heaven sent
The sun, its golden luster lent
Perhaps, a bit too high I went
Perhaps, those words not what I meant,
The wax grows soft and slightly bent.
Now Icarus prays for a soft descent
Commute with Clouds
As I drove toward the work I do
I came upon a stunning view
The valley’s clouds cast morning light,
On rows of dragons taking flight
From darkness just around the hill,
Where waves of magic horses spill.
They flowed and bent with thermals, stormed.
Until a new tableau was formed.
And mythic creatures gathered there,
All dancing in the solar glare.
The Sun, which lit this universe,
Then bade that vap’rous crowd disperse
And as I drove into that field,
the last of misty phantoms yield.
I’ll pass this way each day, and then,
The scene will charm my heart, again.
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