In Memoriam of a Sparrow

Here lies the blue sparrow on the brown forest floor

With bright wings that won’t fly through these woods anymore

All that bird was and everything it did see

To be tossed out of this life on a stiff, careful breeze

 

While the picnicking parties had eyes fixed on their phones

And could not bear for one moment with the feelings of being alone

Gazes narrowly pinched to the small glow of a screen

Consciousness evaporated like a thin sun-drenched stream

 

In the Walnut Grove, the redbird has a quiet story to tell

He’s been following the old man who lost his faith somewhere in Hell

So many good friends died, could say he never made it “home”

Time not measured by the years but in how those trees have grown

 

So much beauty in this park, with seasons still to be seen

Like passing friendly shadows in some long forgotten dreams

Revealed in the daylight, are moments powerful but brief

Thorns once felt as anger, now are recognized as grief

 

And here pauses “the poet” with a toilet to scrub

Saddened by loss, marooned by a deep and still love

Alone and aware facing life’s sharp brevity

Fly forever brave blue sparrow in this forest’s memory

 

Ft Benjamin Harrison State Park ~ April 20th, 2018

 

 

 

Advertisements

Sugar Creek

One of the finest and easiest kayak, canoe and what-have-you creek trips in Indiana: Sugar Creek through Shades and Turkey Run State Parks. This video was taken in Autumn on the final day of trips before the winter close when the foliage was vibrant and warm and the morning air upon the water as crisp as a hand-picked Braeburn.

 

Vulgar Trees & Provocative Foliage

 

A coffee table book for the audacious arborist with a discerning eye.

 

 

 

 

Sammy’s Song

I love watching the leaves fall

High from the trees where the birds call

All of my worries seem simple and small

Glad just to be any part of it all

 

Long is the season when marigolds bloom

Bright is the evening of the Hunter’s Moon

Crimson the sky that says snow is coming soon

Autumn winds playing their own thankful tune

 

Cold Sunday mornings and taking long naps

A cup of hot coffee and available lap

Beautiful wisdom gifted by the cat

To be where you are and be alright with that

 

I love watching the leaves fall

High from the trees where the birds call

All of my worries seem simple and small

Glad just to be any part of it all

 

Battle of the Alarm Clock

Wednesday morning seems to me

The longest morning that could be

The sun won’t show her light today

The clouds hang low as if to say

 

“Sleepy soul go back to bed

With a weary heart lay down your head

Your troubled rest will bring you peace

Just close your eyes for sweet release”

 

But I the martyr awake instead

And slowly crawled out of my bed

Alarm clock beckoning to start the day

With its shrill cry I hear it say

 

“Sleepy soul awake from your dream

Your day is new or so it seems

The excitement, the journey of starting again

A new day has come so let it begin!”

 

But I, time’s martyr will argue instead

And smack Mr. Alarm Clock upside the head

His snooze is still sore from yesterday’s battle

His annoying chime reduced to a rattle

 

“Oh teller of time, you will not rule me!

I’ll not be governed by your philosophy

I’ll awaken when ready, and start a new day

I will never let you have your own way!”

 

“You’ve disrupted my slumber all these long years

The lost joy and happiness brings me to tears

In the land of my dreams I prefer to stay

Your incessant cry will not pull me away!”

 

So back into sleep, I quickly fell

To the valley of dreams in a transient spell

Mr. Alarm had said nothing more….but why?

In his quiet rebuttle wasted minutes passed by