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

 

 

 

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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

 

The Great Pasture Fire

It was the summer of nineteen hundred ninety-two

Living on dad’s farm we had plenty to do

Feedin’ three growin’ kids can be pretty tough

So dad decided to go set fire to that brush

 

Well it had been a dry year, I should make that clear

The wind was blowin’ strong enough to knock down a grown steer

Weeners on the menu, dad’s mind made up

Took the kerosene tank to down and got ‘er filled up

 

Step-mom and sisters got back from the craft show

The would have stayed gone if they had only known

Walkin’ past the goats, John-Boy let outta scream

He saw dad walkin’ out to pasture with that can of kerosene

 

We’d raised a pissed of steer, he was the king out here

And started smoldering at the horns when he has us get near

The pasture was his, unless you came with a stick

You can call him Lil’ Richard, but his name was Big Dick

 

That was a match strike that’ll go down in history

How that fire spread so fast is no mystery

It had been a dry year, I think I made that clear

Dad and I never claimed to be no pyro-engineers

 

Well dad’s got us 3 kids and step-mom as new hires

We’re all putting out his Great Pasture Fire

Lord, I’ve witnessed some messes….this can’t end good

Pigme goats have taken cover in the woods

I’ll never live to see London, I’ll never live to see France

God, don’t lemme die from charred underpants

It’s all a true story, ya can’t call me a liar

Aimee, stop, drop and roll…your Jordache Jeans are on FIRE!

 

It only took a few minutes for things to get outta hand

The pasture went from Green Acres to no-man’s land

Flames were a crackin’, dad needed recruits

Handed each of us a shovel then slipped on his boots

 

I may have only been about ten plus two

Calling the fire trucks woulda been smart to do

Be we Brashear’s got pride, so with a shovel in hand

We started spanking at the flames as a foolish reprimand

 

It had been a dry year, I think I made that clear

The chicken’s were screaming “get me the cluck outta here”

Pee-Wee and Scrap we’re sprinting down the lane

Barking chariots of fire, tails were waggin’ in shame

 

Well dad’s got us 3 kids and step-mom as new hires

We’re all putting out his Great Pasture Fire

Lord, I’ve witnessed some messes….this can’t end good

A dozen creatures lookin’ on from the woods

God knows I’ve seen fire….no where the hell is the rain?

Fighting flames with shovels, but it’s all in vain

Feelin’ like Frodo, wishing I was in the Shire

But we’re stuck in Mordor with this Ring of Fire

 

Well Dad hooked up the plow and covered fire with dirt

Not sure his line of reason, but what the hell could it hurt?

Just about then, one thing occurred to me

That old rusty tractor leaked a little gasoline

 

Well that was it for Big Dick, he hurdled the gate

He was meeting a heifer down the road for a hot date

Just about then the winds began to die down

And for the first time in an hour we started to gain ground

 

The heavens must’ve been smiling down on that farm

Because that fire died down before the first alarm

About three acres were scorched so dad ran inside

To grab the wieners before the rest of the fire died

 

All of our faces were covered in soot

We took off our shoes and examined each foot

Everyone couldn’t have been more pissed-off and tired

When dad came back with bologna because the weeners were expired

 

 

Dad’s got us three kids and step-mom up for hire

We just put out his Great Pasture Fire

You know I ain’t a picky eater and I don’t like to complain

When it comes to weener roasting I’m gonna abstain

Well I’ve witnessed some messes, this one takes the cake

If you fire up a grill, just cook me a steak

It’s all a true story you can’t call me a liar

That’s how we all survived The Great Pasture Fire!

 

 

 

 

 

Ephemeral

The voice of the ocean is near as we’re  setting out here, half awake before dawn

Emptiness spinning in space, only persons and places to which time belongs

Drawn by the moon in a sky, here’s to hoping we find those bright stars in our hands

On this ride through the dark to some shore, oh to be nothing more than a wave crashing sand

 

Some say they have seen a bright flash of green at the set of the sun

Rays of joy and of pain that fall the same on everyone

May we open our hearts in larger part to whomever we can

On this ride through the dark toward some shore, aren’t we nothing more than waves crashing sand