This morning, Kellie was not able to walk with Luna and me. What a shame! It was a gorgeous 54 degree morning. The fog did rise off the pond before I got a good picture of it floating and swirling over the water, but the picture above with no fog is not too shabby. Also, while I was walking this morning, I got into a word rhythm and pretty much composed the entire following poem/song in my head. It took me less than 15 minutes to write it down when I got home, and I only edited two or three words. ENJOY! Tell me what you think!
Hymn #1: Ode to Joy
The sun winks through the leaves.
The dew sparks on the grass.
Troubles meander through my mind.
I think I’ll let them pass.
Yes, I will let them pass.
They cannot come today.
Because this day is mine alone,
I’ll shoo them on their way.
The fog rests on the pond.
The tall sunflowers sway.
I know that soon winter will come,
But it won’t be today.
No, it won’t be today
Because this day is mine.
I’ll think that where my troubles pass
I’ll seek some other sign.
Jays warble in the oaks.
Grapes ripen on the vine.
Tomorrow comes for other folks.
Today, this day is mine.
Oh, yes, this day is mine.
I will not let it pass.
I’ll not wait for some other day.
My joy has come at last.
Damn! I love the feeling when words just overwhelm me, and I put them down, and they're not bad. But...
Yeah, you remember the fragment from last week. It keeps haunting me. The words come haltingly, and I want to change them before I've even finished typing them, but the idea just keeps coming back over and over again like when I eat a cucumber and burp cucumber the rest of the day. It just won't go away. If you can enjoy my edits, revisions, and additions to this fragment, please let me know.
A Fragment About a Fragment
I watched the copper bolide shoot
Through the sky, an errant spear.
I saw its seedling spark take root
In fallowed fogs of morning air.
The nimbly glowing mist entwined
The deep shadows of woodland boughs.
It spread into the fields and vined
Across the backs of dozing cows.
Then, spokes sprang forth; a giant wheel
That spun in whirls quicker than thought
Gyrated up a nearby hill
And on the rising moon was caught.
There it twirled like sun-lit lightning
Spitting at the universe.
The soft horizon, slowly brightening,
Absorbed the brunt, or even worse,
Let the sputum pierce each pass
The bubbling secrets of Earth’s heart,
A mix of molten rock and glass,
That felt the burden of its part
Reechoing the pink and gold,
Collecting all the precious gems,
And keeping sunshine in its hold,
Yet still the liquid spilled over its rims.
Some horizontal cloudlets, thin and dark,
Stained the auburn liquor as it spread
And scarred the browning wheat sheaves with their mark
Above the stubbled ground, graying and dead.
Then from the dirt, a seedling springs
And later bursts into a head.
In the woods, a bluebird sings
To rouse the buried from the dead.
The coydog howls on mountaintops.
His voice a call to break the dawn.
He ends and licks his frothy chops,
Stretches his legs and rambles on
Through heavy growths of pine and holly
That combs his coat with spikey tips.
His life is not so melancholy
With his den mates at his hips.
The pack pauses at what it hears.
A chapel rings its mourning bells.
The sound is foreign to their ears.
Some Man has died; the tolling tells
And some will die again today
As does every plant or beast.
Coyotes go the other way
But are not bothered in the least,
For Death’s a partner in their life.
If they’re to eat, some things must die.
Daily they live with mortal strife
And never stop to question why,
Nor do they question why the shapes
And colors eddy overhead.
The sun is warming on their napes
But looks the hue of burnished lead.
Please don't forget that Uncle Boog and the Dogfight is available at Lulu and Amazon. I haven't checked the other online sellers this week. Read it! Help spread the word about it! It is a good little book.
Comments