Our Spirits Are Strong

The bells of the hour chime of Autumn
When temperatures cool and we breathe easy
And trees put on pretty party dresses
Before they give up for the cold of winter.
We can sit beside the bonfire sipping hot tea
And reminiscing about a time when life was easy
Or so it seemed that we had all the answers
That seem to evade us so desperately now.
So we watch the fireflies in the distance
And sit a little more quietly for a while
Wondering, perhaps, if everyone has these doubts
And coming to the conclusion, at long last, they do.
But we know for sure the sun will shine tomorrow
And we crawl out of bed to meet it, if tentatively,
For though our flesh is just that, our spirits are strong.

The Snap

Inglorious moments fly by making demands

And the high imperial court sends scavengers

To bark orders and lash the backs of everyone

Who wishes to see better things, a better life.

But is it Pollyanna to want harmony and health?

Let all people live as they wish while not hurting others?

Is it naive to want the air and water to be pristine?

So we take a step toward utter desolation

Toward destruction, toward desecration each day

And our beloved Mother Earth roils and rumbles

Shaking herself apart as each new species dies

Leaving us less than we, her children, have ever been.

She protests in a lava-strewn revolution

Because at some point she will snap.

Vignette #1

In the court of Charlemagne, French was spoken

With such dignity and robustness

That everyone who enjoyed a promenade

Around the room where court was held

Created such an air of class and poise

That never would have sufficed on the streets of Paree.

Yet the fine lace and wide skirts,

The wigs stacked high upon their heads

Made them prime targets for the streetwise

Who knew how to play on their finer senses

And beg for a bit of gold, just a small coin,

Given if only to cast the ragged-clothed wretch

Out of the way of the carriage.

Seeds

From the seed comes the bead of Light

That through the tunnel shines

Just enough to create hope for those

Who cheer and laugh and applaud

Because they wish to think and now know

That all eventualities are possible

Leaving each opportunity open, growing, glowing

With swift desire to make each day

Better, brighter, Lighter than the last.

And who’s to say they’re wrong?

But the one who stands between Light and Dark

And does he even matter in the scheme of things?

It’s the idea of Light that matters most

As it filters down from Highest High

And provides the answers and the guidance

To each one of us, helping our seeds to grow.

For All Time

In this very moment while the colors swirl

So that there is no recognition of reality

Let it not go without saying that we care

And understand the highest values of our Lord

For such tribulation amongst all the peoples

Rises so high with the tangling of the planets

And our hearts beg for just a little relief

From the horror that evaporates yet leaves behind

All manner of dark marks to leave creation in woe.

Let us breathe easier for having faith

And do not deny the faithful their nightly rest.

In each corner of the world may there be trust

Amongst our fellows so that compassion and love

Are no longer blurred but speak with a serene voice

Casting hatred and bigotry aside for all time.

Nature Walk

Tall grasses make a lake in the wind

Fluttering across their thick blades

As if a large fish were passing through

On its way to find a school of little fishes

For dinner or just to play its power upon them.

As the wave meets the forest it all fades

And each step forward crackles on fallen branches

Amongst the grand oaks that line the path

The freshness of the air energizes, soothes,

And my eyes grow wider taking in all the green

Beautiful life at its most raw—a deer, a raccoon, a hawk.

The sunlight sends spokes of enlightenment

Such that its strength and sovereignty is undeniable.

I pause upon a mossy space to run my fingers

Over the velvety carpet, home to faerie folk

And then responsibility calls and I must come back home.

Beach Time

The tiniest of waves on the surface of the lake

Make a starlight pattern as far as the eye can see

Bright to look at, cheery, too, and inviting

As the wind surfers gather, shooting across the water,

Their sails of yellow, orange, blue and fluorescent green,

Zipping one way and then another, crossing the horizon,

Up the long pier and beyond the lighthouse

Straining their muscles to hold on tight to their flight

A quick breather as they glide onto the mound of sand

Bearing ripples of its own as the wind dictates

Each grain of sand to its rightful place in the scene

Beneath the deep blue sky and cotton clouds on high.