The Agony and the Ecstasy III

 

Wondering About the Glory 

One day during the golden hour at the end of the day mulling things over while feeding bread to the turtles I wondered, what will it be like to simply keep the gates open and let the water flow when the bladder wants it to flow all natural like?  

In other words, what will letting myself pee as soon as I feel the urge, without giving it a second thought,  be like?  Will it be liberating?  

The Third Leg

There’s a third element that fits into all these revelations I’ve been having.  

I can’t help but feel frustrated with everybody always being pissed off like you’re pissed off or I’m pissed off and she’s pissed off or he’s pissed at her and everybody’s pissed at somebody while some are pissed at everybody!  When this girl, the only intelligent person in the whole group, spoke out saying, “But don’t you realize?  It’s so much better to be pissed off than it is to be pissed on!”

 The room got quiet then everyone started clapping and agreed.  She really put everything into perspective for me.  In other words,  we should be thankful for what we have instead of lamenting what we DON’T have because often what you wish for is ten times worse than what we already HAVE.”  

A Similar Razzle 

That comment about being pissed off reminded me of a similar razzle that occurred one day when I had a fleeting conversation with this guy in new York way back in the mid seventies when I mentioned I dreaded having dinner with my in laws.  The guy got real serious, came a little closer and in the softest matter of fact tone looked around and said, ‘Let me give you some good advice.”  He looked around again, locked his eyes onto mine and said, ” It’s a lot better being with your in laws than it is being with your outlaws.” 

Boy howdy, did that ring a bell with me!    

continued …

Ghost Trees Wailing At the Wind

 

A picture couldn’t do justice to

Arctic wind’s ferocity

blowing across the

great lake thirty or forty m.p.h.

white caps rushing toward shore

water, trees, sand and leaves …

combined

Shhsssshing relentlessly,

my hoody inflated into

a reverse parachute

pushing my head and

body backward.

Dots of rain prick

my face

the occasional

snow flake spirals by.

 I’m forced to retreat

to calmer climes

along the road where

not so long ago it seemed

cold before cresting

the hill at the shoreline

facing Arctic wind’s

ferocity.

I make my way up the hill to 23

turn left onto the bike path for

a mile or so, past

the alabaster pipeline then 

return 

the way I came

to 

the top of

the hill.

Descending the hill I hear

the SNAP CRACK! of dead fir trees

breaking like sticks

the bottom half still attached 

to the ground

The top looking like a snarling beast, suddenly 

Escaped from 

Inside the tree 

patches of bleached wood where bark had fallen 

with jagged, pointed, dagger teeth 

An angry beast released from its confinement within the tree 

Splintered teeth pointing skyward

still attached to

roots rotten and brittle below ground

(the only force keeping it 

from tipping over)

the broken trees are pointing skyward

with snarling fury

the soul of each tree’s pent up frustration

raging at nature’s forces

finally allowed to express

their furiosity at

the plague of beetles who caused their

demise, long gone now

off to greener pastures.

The fir tree’s plaintive wails,

their pent up frustration,

their solitary ghost sounds

their howls of pain

unheard

in their after lives!

The fir trees wail with silent fury now,  they’ve become

ghost trees wailing at

the wind!

Their pain punctuated by

SNAP! CRACK!! SNAP!! SNAP!!! CRACK!!!!!

the initial sound

of ultimate

rot …

Nature’s Life

She looked with cold indifference 

at His efforts to teach us 

the connection between

our lives and

nature.

Bridge parties, the daily routines of life and of course 

her afternoon naps,

were the essential

components of Her

life.

He gave us the freedom to

explore the sandy beaches, 

the dunes, trout streams and 

The Great Lake where

I spent my days

submerged in glacial ice 

melted to

65 degree water for

hours at a time, running through

the woods exploring, or 

camped out alongside windbreaker trees  

stretched 3/4 of a mile along the shoreline 

in sleeping bags next to camp fire embers 

staring at the stars

through crystal clear skies blown clean by 

on shore winds  cold or

chili at times even during the summer.

fishing off the end of 

the Coast Guard dock 

stretched a hundred or so yards into 

the bay where

the “Amphibian” and smaller 

rescue boats hung inside the boat house at

the same place where

he learned to fish as a boy.

He taught us how to

fend for ourselves, to

catch food, to

make fire, cook outside, provide shelter 

if necessary.

He gave us opportunities for unique forms of thought patterns deeper sorts of problem solving more essential the world around shown wider in scope made more real; how to live impeccably in the natural world parallel to and inclusive of the confines of life in the everyday “real” world.  

One day,

temperatures in the ‘20s

the ground covered by

light wings drifting 

like feather’s down 

falling,

I followed his tracks

through

two feet of freshly fallen snow to 

a row of scrub pines bordering

the back side of sand

dunes running parallel to 

the lake where

left alone with

shelter, warmth and

food

in a world of 

muted silence 

wrapped inside a black and white shell

the ground rising

upward before me

I pondered without 

words or thought 

the timeless mystery surrounding me 

in a world of

liberation …

They Call It Turtle Cove

..  They Call It Turtle Cove ..

What I’ve been doing?

I’ve been

working on my dock 

terracing slopeland for

boxed steps made from

two by fours carved and set

into canal soil with

aloe plants showcased ’round 

boxed, steps, leading down to 

shoreline dock I built 

at water’s edge where

looking into 

canal water  

through water’s window from

where we stand see

tiny fish and 

many turtles, a baby gator one day!

The fishing line with 

rod and reel 

stands over there 

waiting for the time

when young hands learn

to use it. 

..  Sight Breaker Heart Breaker ..

I built a 

‘sight breaker’ to 

hide natures pile of debris 

I add to constantly at the 

back corner of the 

yard 

the fronds of palm and banana, slash pine 

needles, fair size limbs, nice looking pine cones from 

fifty feet pines , 

(squirrels who feed on 

pine nuts hardly ever seen), 

I either burn just for fun or use to 

fuel more s’mores for Becky.   

I mulch the needles with the mower and 

spread them fine 

among the aloes, ferocious foes appearing yet 

most beautiful healing plant in fearsome disguise  

a helpful friend 

that I adore.    

I put them around the pines  

along the paths aligned 

designed with rip rap in mind

the best way to hold the soil

you’ll find them where 

sandy soil needs support, holding it in place 

by various means from many sizes 

calcified shells of limestone each piece heavy with  

Its own density at work within 

whatever space it occupies, steady and

strong but

not very 

Pretty.  

..  I Tried To Make Soil One Day ..

I tried to make soil one day at the 

corner of the yard that 

leads on down to the 

canal where there’s debris  I 

I call it my compost heap

which, is a lie.

One day I carved out an eight by eight plot,

threw down some black dirt and cow manure 

staked it out with four by fours and repurposed two by fours thinking I’ll 

make my own soil from scratch, with 

lots of organic materials, I’ll gather and choose from this 

jungle in disguise I live in and 

make it located exactly where  

 I discard all my 

yard debris.  (killing two birds with 

one stone?!)

I try to make it look nice and 

generally succeed.

(I don’t think you can even see it!)

So I don’t think anybody really 

gives a shit.   

Except those who are bothered by the 

Word and nothing more since 

no matter how you look at it 

it’s still called 

Yard waste!   

..  On the Dock/Arctic Winds ..

On the dock at times I find the 

peace I’m looking for the 

wind and trees joined as one 

a gift I feel from 

 Arctic winds blown in from

Arctic north

where I come from (and

would rather be)

up there in that north country

where those air filled Arctic winds come

nicely heated along the way

their freezing gusts tempered by their

rush to blow all the way down here.

How often I feel them?  Not nearly enough.

I wish I’d feel those air filled breezes  

down here more often.

… Summer …

In Summer air most often down here dockside

I see

canal water standing still,

reflecting white light from above

I see

heat air water rising steaming upward

reflecting white sun above,

canal water raining upward all day!

then,

 coming down again and

again

day after day after

day …

We call it Turtle Cove … 

The Crane Continues IV

The Verdict 

continued ….. I hate them for saying that.  Who are they to decide whether another living thing should live or die?  

They look at each other then back at me.  Without saying a word I know the verdict. 

I look at the crane, its head feathers tousled by an on shore breeze remembering the moment I saw its head above the cat tails such a short while ago.  So much had happened during that brief span of time.

Then I have an idea!  I open my mouth to tell them I could take the crane back to the swale where I found it so it can die in peace but, it’s too late.  Jake is already more than halfway to the curve.

Waiting for Death

I follow Jake to his house where I sit hunched over on an old wooden bench made from two tree stumps and a thick board facing eastward toward the lake, waiting for Jake to emerge from his house not knowing what to expect.

Halfway between where I sit and the the top of the rise at the far end of the lane, the crane stands motionless on one spindly leg, the left side of it’s body in profile it’s long neck and beak sharply defined.  

The lake appears as a grayish blue ribbon between the top of the dune at the end of the lane and the pale blue afternoon sky reflecting off the horizon line.“

I’m wondering if the crane was aware of my presence back when I stared into its unblinking eye thinking I had seen a flicker of awareness?  Had we really made a connection back in the swale where Gray had made her discovery?

The crane seems lifeless now almost like a statue. Maybe I was imagining things.

I hear Jake approach.

Jake’s Gun

The double barrels of Jake’s shotgun appear pointing skyward to my left.  Jake lowers the gun barrels so that they’re pointing at the ground while, with his thumb against the locking lever he jerks up sharply. The barrels, one on top of the other crack open.

Jake cradles the open shotgun against the left side of his body.  I see into the black holes of the ‘over and under’ shotgun barrels waiting to be loaded with the fat red shells Jake holds in his right hand.

With one continuous motion, Jake’s thumb press the two shells into their chambers then, pulls up while pushing down at the same time locking the double barrels into place. 

The barrels of the shotgun move upward disappearing from my field of vision as I continue to stare at the bird its head feathers ruffling in the breeze as I had seen them do back in the swale after Gray’s discovery brought us together.

Red Feathers 

I can’t take my eyes off of those dancing feathers it feels like I’m in two places at the same time.

In some strange way maybe those feathers are acknowledgement that, there HAD been a connection between us. Things can be funny like that sometimes can’t they?

The air is still.. I’m not breathing.  

Unable to move I feel frozen in place and time.  

The only sound? Deadly silence when, without warning an explosion lifts me off my seat!.  I’m falling over backward but manage to regain my balance.  

At precisely the same moment the explosion rocks my world I witness the most amazing sight I’ve ever seen.  

continued …. Inanimate 

 

Constructing the Crane: It’s Alive, It Has Awareness!

continued ….. its wings, so large that they stretch the length of its entire body from its breastbone to the shorter thin feathers on the backside, it’s feathers lying next to each other, slightly overlapped when not in use, like a tightly louvered fan pointing downward while standing.

In Flight

I picture its wings in flight the shorter round feathers at the back edge vibrating or fluttering through the air like the sensitive fingers of a pianist each in tune with the incremental movements needed to stabilize and direct the strength it takes to create forward thrust, their giant wings beating downward, pulling themselves upward or in graceful flight gliding through the sky two different parts of its body telling it what to do the breastbone and the long tail feathers telling it to rise up and up effortlessly higher and higher flying free over clouds of air they see, that we can only imagine.  

 I creep forward cautiously until we stand next to each other.  I sense a strangeness about its lack of movement, as if it’s in a trance. 

Crane’s Eye/Seeking Awareness 

I look closely into its eye, the iris a thin orange/blood red ribbon surrounding the the pupil so large it nearly fills the entire eye socket, a dark black pool without a flicker of life.

While looking into its eye, I think how great it would be to see some sense of awareness.  Something that would tell me the crane isn’t dead or dying when, suddenly it breaks out of its trance.

It’s pupil flickers, a spark of sunlight reflects off of the surface of the black pool.  The iris contracts, the dark pool grows smaller until it finds a focal point.

I see its eye tracking from place to place over my face feeling bewildered perhaps by my curious movements, the soft shapes and colors of my face, the black pool of my awareness filling his awareness of sights so different from its everyday world gliding high, looking down at ponds and streams, wading through water searching always searching to satisfy the hunger that gives life meaning.  The desire to live.

It’s Alive, It Has Awareness

Suddenly I know its alive!   It has awareness.  I feel a link between our searching ever curious minds.

continued … 

Constructing the Crane

A Story About A Boy and His Pet Crane 

The Crane: Prologue 

They said the crane was too sick to live!  They insisted it would poke out my eye.  

This was adult thinking at its worst!  The kind of overly cautious bullshit thought that leads to really stupid decisions.  

I hated them for using untrue accusations as a justification to steal the life away from something alive and beautiful. 

The crane had become a friend I had made a connection with when our paths first crossed only an hour and a half earlier.  As … 

Earlier 

Gray (my Weimereiner dog and constant companion) and I were minding our own business, 100 yards south of Jerry’s Marina along the shoreline of Tawas Bay in northern Michigan where, fifteen minutes ago I had fallen off the dock into the oily marina water after riding too slow to keep my balance. 

Still damp, I take one last look over at Jerry’s remembering my humiliation shrug it off  and begin walking the lime rock road alongside a swale, toward the black top that will take me back to the cottage, while Gray sloshes around in a foot or so of water at the bottom of the swale trying to pick up the scent of some animal within the thick growth of cattails,  when I hear Gray barking non-stop.

Gray’s Discovery 

I walk a little further to where Gray is barking at a giant water crane standing in the shallow water at the bottom of the swale, its head above the cattails, where it was probably hunting for frogs when Gray made her discovery.

Gray continues to bark while circling the crane occasionally pausing to sniff or nip at its leg.

The crane looks unafraid,  strangely motionless seemingly unaware of the dog’s barking or my presence.  

I decide to take a closer look.

I slide down the embankment then creep through the cattails careful not to make sudden movements or splash water.

The crane slowly curls its long neck into a flattened S shape the back half resting along its spine its head and beak in profile.

Suddenly it occurs to me that if I take one more step the bird might fly away. I never thought I’d get a chance to be so close to such a beautiful bird.  I want to soak in all the details of its beauty before it’s too late.  

Feathers, Neck, Beak,

I admire the curve of its head, the tiny nostril holes on each side of its beak perhaps ten or twelve inches long.  Red mini feathers dance in the wind on the crown of its head.  .

I see tiny scales covering its stick-like legs each smaller than a dime overlapping themselves like tiny shingles, smooth aerodynamic in design.

I look at the variations of gray coloring along the short hairs of its neck that gradually lengthen into 6 to 12 inch feathers covering its wings, so large that they stretch the length of its entire body from its breastbone to the end of its tail feathers.  It’s feathers lie next to each other, slightly overlapped like a tightly louvered fan pointing downward while standing.

more ….

For tribalmysticstories: A Tribal Mystic Story; Poem For My Father

• – Poem For My Father –

One day he took me to a copse of trees 

where we sat under a canopy of 

newly formed leaves  

above us a clear blue sky 

where he gave perspectives to me

different from anything I had 

learned.  

Thoughts from the other side of

what we think we know.

How wind and leaves 

are not separate forces rather 

part of one single entity

connected to an infinity 

of larger and larger wholeness

stretching outward from 

the air we breathe,

beyond heat and light 

from the sun then, 

further into space and time until  

I saw myself in a world 

quite different than my own,

a world I’d never seen before, 

of single limitless form.  

He drew my attention to 

the random movements of 

the leaves

rising and falling, relentlessly 

shooting ‘round and ‘round,

limbs branches leaves and needles 

the grasses and saplings below 

touching one another 

sharing unique thought patterns 

not unlike the synapses 

of our brains though 

infinitely more complex,

not confined by 

the craniums of our skulls,

gathering awareness,

from earth and sky,

the mysteries of the world 

above and below spoken to them

content to accept all that is true

without conscious reflection.  

“Trees are the supreme creation of life along the continuum of awareness, free from all bonds, able to gather all knowledge from earth and sky and share with one another.”

I listened and within 

the silence of my mind 

heard leaves and limbs 

whispering to one another,

their voices rising and falling 

in concert with 

the wind, 

it seemed I was watching  

a playground of laughing children. 

He told me all root bound life 

the trees and even the grasses reach 

the tendrils of their minds, their 

roots, 

into the planet where they feel 

the living vibrations of the earth and glimpse 

the secrets of life

“They know the stuff we struggle to understand.” he said.  “From the smallest particles outward, one long strip of awareness from where they are rooted, to the edge of the horizon and beyond, while we scurry about like ants grabbing pieces of sticks or crumbs of knowledge thinking how clever we are.’’

Three Musets

Three Quarter Seasons

spring time
trees grow green leaves
new life

bright sun
great days to swim
much fun !

snow days
light wings falling
skies gray

Winter’s Warmth

great lake
frozen water
skating

fire warm
skaters gathered
popcorn!

days end
hands held walking
best friends

Trout Stream Camp

cool stream
flowing gently
light dreams

shadows
sun dapples leaves
wind blows

sunlight
slowly falling
star shine …

 

When Daylight Birds Take Morning Flight

When Daylight Birds Take Morning Flight

I was up before seven
I made a pot of coffee

I swept the floor
I listened to the radio

I poured the coffee
I put sugar and cream in

I climbed back into bed and slept
until the dawn of night.

I watched the moon arch overhead
from orange to milky white;

silver dollar sized
with full moon’s

full moon
light.

I watched night birds take night time flight.

While breezes washed ashore
I walked the line where all three meet;

sky within dark water,
waves of moonlight,

sparkling grains of sand
reflecting light below/above …

between each other’s sight

within their night time

kisses ..

I looked into the grounds of sweet good byes
the thought of daylight in disguise;

my thoughts on morning rising with
each new morning’s light,

the sky that touches deep within,
the sound of inland seas.

With speckled stars above the nighttime breeze

with moonlight showing through the leaves

I’ll sleep ‘till morning light …

when day begins

and daylight birds
take morning

flight …

 

More Lake Magic: Morphing Sparrows

I sat and watched in peaceful trance
water cascade toward me,
it’s white caps reaching for the shore
where purest water and land meet
in perfect balance.

A half mile off shore men fished in the trough between shallow water colored tan and
deep water blue that extended to the horizon
then further where deepest knowledge lies hidden beyond the
fog that blurs the boundary line
of the event horizon  …

… when the world and everything in it
came alive!
…
an immense delta shaped cloud miles across
morphed into a giant sparrow
its tail feathers tendril-like
emerging from a roiling line of black
trailing far behind
each twisting through air
in its own unique way …
parts of the whole drifting away,
thin strands of cloud DNA
seeking like minded life forms
reforming into new more powerful forces or
receding into the mist
…
i listened for words grown silent;  empty space greater than
the sound of crashing waves,
or the passing wind that filled my ears … when shades of gray

surrounded me;

the sandy bottom of the great lake became a subtle shade of gray;
the white caps a more subtle shade … with motion …
the shoreline grass multi faceted shades,
the sky in slow diminishing muted shades of gray
slowly turning toward
the blue black of night
…
I was living in the gray zone before nighttime on the
boundary line between time when
dreams from beyond the horizon are born
within the light of darkest night

Nature’s Way

 

… yellow marble space/ ages past frozen time/galaxies beyond glass/sky reflecting sky/ rippling trees/ distorted splashing brightness/liquified light streaks ever moving outward …

phosphflousent air born spores /clinging green algae/tepid water/ flowing acid, alkaline seas/ liquid splendor/seminal fluids coating walls evergreen …a world of wonder …

ground lying flat/ pool pond Life/ changeling forms of fishes/ sloping stucco valleys/ water seeking paths of wonder/ plankton decomposing/water’s sprouts nourish living creatures/green life breathing/rain, lakes, tides/ wandering birds searching through veils of hidden mystery/ seeds of life/parallel spaces between worlds/seen through windows touching/ / each taking what it needs/ then moving on …

Brown Oaks

North wind gently sheds
the remaining brown oak leaves
(always the last to leave)
onto the ground
for squirrels delight
their bedded pleasure with perfect

syncronicity …

Outdoors Always Works For Me

 

Outdoors always works for me.

Lake gazing
lost in time
thoughts grow still
cease to ‘gzist.

Spellbound movement
roiling calm
trees and wind at play
taking weight away
from heavy snow.  

Blowing fallen colors
taking broken limbs
willing partners
grateful lovers
always playing.  

Northern breezes bring winter winds and storms/snow that swarms and lives in crystalline form/black and white vistas/endless vistas of black and white.  

Warmth brings
southern breezes.

Leaves whispering
wind’s return
forming perfect union
rising falling
sex collusion
seminal fluid
carrying seeds
blown everywhere
growing life
exploding … !

Watching wind and trees
their spellbinding movement,
their night time sighs form
perfect union.

Watching wind and trees
I see giving, always giving.

Giving trees with the
breeze giving with
the breeze …

Outdoors always works for me.

Echoes

Echoes

I wish that I could live
forever …

in this
north country

where

giant pines and oak trees
give their

leaves and
needles …

for the pleasure of my
rake …

where …

the never ending blend of
sand, sky and
great lake
water …

sooth the gray tides of my
mind …

where …

surrounded by
echoes from
time long
past …

wrapped in light
beneath a full

moon …

I sit apart
from the lure of a
world …

that

waits for me

to

find

my

way

home …

Wind

Wind rolls water upon itself
vibrating colors darker gray.

Swarming ovals riding over surface glass
ripple and recoil, absorb, push aside,
reflect the wind above
its moving footprint
cross sectioned
momentarily
for us to
see …

Toknow

… To know the how and why and when of it all .. The distinct impression that when something was seen/it held you speechless for the longest time/you couldn’t look away/you couldn’t get enough/you wanted more and more/the mystique was there/but you couldn’t put a name to it/you were so young/you didn’t have the words/emotion drove the moment/in complete silence and pure feeling you were drawn …….

….. Who knows what it is that captures the moment so completly?/the coordinates of magnetic forces?/something about movement through time and space?

….. The answer blows in the wind/with the seeds of time/the seeds of Life carried within/through gales and storms/it wrestles with the windows or brings in sunlight on a beautiful day/over sand and water over villages and plain/over metropolis splendor/and degradence …. We are blown by the trial and tribulations/twisting and turning through the storms/round and around within
the chaos/then thrown out/

Onto a sunlit shore ..

With Thanks To Emily Dickinson

 

I told you yesterday that spring had sprung – and i knew because – i saw a fly and a bull ant on the floor by the fireplace – and a tickling on my arm as i wrote this piece – not fifteen minutes ago – a tiny spider had invaded my space.

There were gnats and mosquitos and other tiny things – i can’t imagine – sharing the same air that a week ago – floated crystals of lace like water – light wings – each a drifting masterpiece – floating down or streaming sidewise – within crystal clarity – between the flakes – air that was mine to breathe while witnessing – the beauty of each and every living thing stripped bare of all distractions –

Now – shared with all the little things – that come alive in spring –

My life more complicated now – no longer distraction free – avoiding their lines of intersection – between the search for whatever they’re searching for – inside the air i’ve been breathing in – i’ve shared with no one –

The soil fecund now … i do not use that word lightly … stored snow or frost grown permanent – five or six ‘moon go ’rounds’ ago –  where all these beings lived within – their clear winter amber – quick frozen within gathered humus or crystalline within the muck, the eggs of their existence – captured when sun’s light slowed to dim orange – when trees released their bed covers – to darker still intensity – holding captured cold stillness within their sleeping spaces – during gestation’s time to lie in wait – released when warm sun returns to free the life within those spaces –

Not sleeping having never been alive (as such) – waiting to emerge from broken water – released by whiter light – these creatures that surround me now – within my sight – that feed upon my light – that touch my flesh – that share with me my breath – my choice bereft – the world no longer stripped bare of all confusion -black and white and clean and fresh – they’ve stolen my serenity !

The Crane II

When I heard her frenzied barking I thought that maybe she had cornered a raccoon or skunk.

A giant water crane its head above the cattails, stood in the shallow water at the bottom of the swale probably hunting for frogs when the dog made her discovery.

The dog continued to bark while circling the crane occasionally pausing to sniff or nip at its leg.

The crane looked unafraid,  strangely motionless seemingly unaware of the dog’s barking or my presence.  I decided to take a closer look.

I slid down the embankment then crept through the cattails careful not to make sudden movements or splash water.

The crane slowly curled its long neck into a flattened S shape the back half resting along its spine its head and beak in profile.

Suddenly it occurred to me that if I took one more step the bird might fly away.  I froze all movement perhaps 15 feet away.  I never would have imagined I’d be so close to such a magnificent creature.  I wanted to soak in all the details of its beauty while I had the chance.

While I admired the curve of its head flowing toward the sharp point of its beak perhaps ten inches long, a puff of wind ruffled the short fur like feathers that crowned its head.

I looked down at the tiny scales covering its stick-like legs each smaller than a dime overlapping themselves like tiny shingles,  aerodynamic in design, the same reason the rivets of a plane are ground smooth.

I looked at the variations of gray coloring along the short hairs of its neck that gradually grew into 6 to 12 inch feathers covering its wings, so large that they stretched the length of its entire body from its long neck back to the thin tail feathers lying next to each other, slightly overlapped when not in use, like a tightly louvered fan pointing downward while standing.

I pictured its wings in flight the shorter round feathers at the back edge of each three foot wing vibrating or fluttering through the air like the sensitive fingers of a pianist each in tune with the incremental movements needed to stabilize and offset the great strength it took to create forward thrust; the lazy movement of its tail feathers,  at the will of wind currents, telling the bird to bank and glide left or right or,  in the vacuum at the rear of the bird created by  strong headwinds, to climb along the soft or violent surface of the approaching wind pushing against the the flared shape of its breast bone.  Two parts of its body telling it to rise up and up effortlessly higher and higher flying free over clouds of air they can see, that we earth bound beings could never even imagine.

continued …

Buds of Dew

Butterfly’s wing leaves pollen

with buds of dew

wrapped in crystal drops.

They fall to earth

absorbed within themselves  ….

From South to North

The Golden Age of America: One Decade of Time?

Wide spread drug use did not exist until ’65 – ’66.  The downhill slide started with the Kennedy assassination.  Then, Martin Luther King and later Robert Kennedy was killed.  continued … 

Viet Nam ratcheted up at the same time.  Every town had someone who was killed.  Four guys from my graduating class were killed.

There were massive protests.  Drugs started infiltrating schools around 1965-1966.

 Watergate happened and people stopped trusting the government.

Baby boomers grew up, married, had kids.  Small towns were “built out” with older homes so the ‘boomers’  moved into newly constructed homes in suburbs built closer to cities.

The “downtown” areas of small towns had always been communal places where people encountered people they knew with histories they were aware of.  This shared history resulted in an unspoken sense of community.

While the three block business districts of small towns offered the same goods and services to people in suburbs and cities, malls were built with more access. The business district of small towns slowly declined from lack of use.

The shared information between people in small towns no longer existed among masses of people at large regional malls.  Anonymity … the space between the minds of people … replaced the sense of community.

The open spaces of the countryside were chopped up by highways and the closed environment of suburbia making it harder for kids to explore the world.

The world, no matter how technologically advanced it becomes, can never return to that ten year period of time … the Golden Age … when the sense of community prevailed, there was a closeness to nature and technology was a part of life rather than the dominating force.

Nor could the world return to that mode of living, given the complex dynamic of population density we live in today.

I see an interesting parallel between social networking and the desire to be part of a closer knit tribe, efforts to save the environment and movements to return to nature ironically, mirroring  many, if not all, of the aspects that characterized the small towns that proliferated the landscape of America during that brief span of time.

*ok, so i know it wasn’t a perfect utopia and there are exceptions to every circumstance ever noted.  I’m speaking in general terms so please don’t pepper me with a ton of exceptions. Maybe you just had to be there. ks

The Golden Age of America. One Decade of Time?

Recently i had a conversation with a blogger who commented on my piece: “When We Were Young.”

https://deanneworld.wordpress.com

After a couple of exchanges she asked me, ‘’What does 1950s childhood mean to you?”  in reference to the subtitle of my blog, before I removed it,  ’’Poems and Short Stories About the Golden Age of America.’’

While answering her question I realized that I had become inspired.  The following words flowed out of me.  I’d like to share them with you.

What did the 1950s childhood meant to me, Deanne?

Simplicity.

This golden age lasted ten to fifteen years after World War II … when small town America flourished.

There was just enough technology to make life comfortable;  three television stations, t.v. went off the air at midnight.  One car per family.  Women could stay home and raise families while men worked local jobs or traveled to factories in nearby cities.  F.M. radio didn’t even exist.

Decades of families grew up in the same community where there was a shared sense of history.  It felt like you lived in a tribe.

 Serious crime existed in the cites … but cities weren’t a dominant force in the U.S. like they are today.

There was plenty of empty spaces between towns for kids to safely explore.  Kids didn’t have to be driven from place to place by their parents, to learn how to play different sports.

There was no t-ball or pop warner football.  Kids learned to play sports by emulating older kids they watched at local sporting events. They practiced their skills playing impromptu games around the community.

Play and exploration were the only forms of recreation available.  Nobody complained that they needed more to keep them occupied.  All kids wanted was to be free to go and do as they pleased.  In that environment, they were free to go and do as they pleased.

The downhill slide started in 1964 with the Kennedy assination.  Then, Martin Luther King and later Robert Kennedy were killed.

Wide spread drug began in ’65 – ’66.

continued …

Viet Nam ratcheted up at the same time.  Every town had someone who was killed.  Four guys died from my class … 

The Soft Brown Fawn Aurora

The Brown Fawn Aurora

… I see the soft brown fawn aurora as white sky 

draws light ‘round curved shoulders that 

taper, long neck framed by natures 

green reflected into shadow curve of 

small indentations ‘round hard defining 

bone.  …

… Within the outline drawing 

white and green, two 

curvatures soft and serene look 

down …  

… the soft brown fawn aurora is within loving sight …  !

…..

Behind closed eyes the 

shadows and shapes revealed by 

sightless vision, the 

brown fawn skin tone is 

absorbed around the rising mass within, while 

touch sensations stream rivers through 

dark forms … 

wet firma, soft pungent earth, fertile 

ground given and 

shared … 

…..

… Night sounds speak of growing need with 

shallow breath to touch, to absorb with

 tender force, 

separate, 

rest, then 

touch, absorb and separate 

again and again … 

…..

… Night sounds speak 

whispered words of 

love … 

..…

… the soft brown fawn aurora fills with thrilling force … !

….

… Dark forms bend, give life to the rising wet 

mass …

within the forest the fawn deer streaks with 

abandon toward bright 

dawn while river water floods with great 

force … !

…..

Dawn brings light once again …  

… Love’s night sounds grow 

silent … 

The fawn deer lies down to sleep … 

the river finds its banks … 

the risen mass and soft brown fawn aurora 

alone again yet …the same …. 

Ex-It IV

A voice inside my mind asked me if I want to go …  I said, “Yes.”

… the sled gathered speed as it fell further down the endless incline …

…  a limitless numbers of doors stretched before me …

… i realized the doors were TIME … each door was a thousand or ten thousand years of time …

… ahead of me i saw thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, millions of millions of doors in the distance …

 … as my speed increased the doors became slimmer until they were single lines  …

… finally, my speed increased until all of the doors blended together as a solid grey wall ..

… an instant before the doors became solid gray time and motion ceased to exist …

… when i felt the sled slowing, the billions of doors i saw had disappeared …

.,.. an incline appeared in the distance …

… my sled came to a halt on top of the incline in front of a door the height and width of my sled …

… the word ”free-ze” appeared above the door …

… a calming a voice asked … ”do you want to enter … ?”

… i felt no fear … i thought for a moment and said, “Yes ….”

… my sled moved through the door into blackness then disappeared …

… i felt as though i were being held within the grasp of a nurturing hand … soft and alive … responsive, living matter … the warm humus of the earth …

… my last thought before entering into the new world was that i had finally returned home …

Fire In the Sky, Nuclear Moon, Space and Time: from Summer Light Grown Full … Daytime Light Darkness Infinity

Fire In The Sky …

… somewhere in the distance rises up fire, a gentle reminder, the slow burn .. light extinguishing or coming alive or just another day gone by .. we scratch or heads in wonder but we’ll never know the reason for all that is shown … fire burning toward light or slowly extinguished it’s all the same can’t you see …, ?

Nuclear Moon

… one night exploding over the line into our world taken by surprise, stark contrast … fire on the horizon, sends us running for our eyes to see, unafraid of  knowing … believing but not sure if we’d sustain ourselves long enough to capture  …

… fire on the horizon, tempered water … brothers in mild moderation … two beasts potential brought within limits .. the space between polar opposites a mist of noise … nuclear moon … it rises with furnace glare, immense with fear the great beastly eye then soft and gentle it moves along its way  …

Space and Time

… space and time and light is all there is .. within it everything lies .. along the great journey nuclear moon’s gentle beast … silent beauty fills in all Life’s

Places …

Ice Shanty Moon: from, Night Ice Shades Varying Mood Intensity Daytime Light Darkness Infinity

Ice Shanty …

… habitats of hidden light life within, stark, unknown behind darkness, beyond, within worlds of living beauty, on the edge between the cracks of two worlds layered; liquid state, static ice, sustaining worlds between, open portal into the dark beyond, where light lies waiting to expand …

Moon

… the Moon full and round and yellow and white … ever changing placid … a constant being in our world  of complexity … slim or full of itself, a portal of mysterious content giving inspiration … an astral thing we depend on … an unblinking eye once mysterious … a living being with a face of astro proportions … it’s light holds nature’s free forms in perfect balance on moonlit nights … black and white polar opposites held for us to see at moments of strange fulfillment … our world and everything in it … Itself …

Green Luminescent Mystery/River of Ice from Night Ice Shades Varying Mood Day Time Light …

Green Luminescent Mystery …

… the world behind a veil of unseen mystery, another dimension beyond our fingertips, below the surface of our eyes, the glow of life born of plant and sun, left over light noise from sun’s creation, the big bang of the plant world, creation below the iceberg tip of living green, giving breath to life … green luminescent luminosity … our dearest friend …

 River of Ice …

… the borderline thread between world static and flowing, the meandering journey of time, this river of sourcefulness, stretching to points beyond … water in its manifestations most basic … liquid or solid … moving or static .. sun’s gift of life … water … the source … great amniotic fluid, the white veil of humanity … ice below the surface layered in continuum next to the green veil of other life … the two in love with each other …

Raindrops … From Ice Shades Varying Mood …….

Raindrops

… sit you straight with drama,

natures love,

each drop giving back to itself

that from which it came,

where it was born then

lifted to cloud formations,

set free to roam through air and space combined

not liquid or solid

gathering energy,

coalescing,

mingling as one,

feeding all that lives …

living water …!

the spring of life … drawn down upon …

giving

perfect grace …

Summer Light Grown Full … Taken From: Night Ice Shades Varying Mood Intensity Daytime Light Darkness Infinity

… Daylight splendor a rainbow of earth tones

liberating depths of secrets for us to dwell on,

shallow water then deeper and deeper secrets revealed,

subtle vibrations of light mingle then

bear witness to themselves … defined …

set free for short spans of beauty …

time between the cold of night seasons …

alive with clarity giving sight …

…..

make no mistake about it ..

summer time is

light collected …

Night, Ice Shades, Varying Mood Intensity, Daytime Light, Darkness, Infinity, Season’s Glow

Night …

… the Moon full and round and yellow and white … ever changing placid … a constant being in our world  of complexity … slim or full of itself, a portal of mysterious content giving inspiration … an astral thing we depend on … an unblinking eye once mysterious … a living being with a face of astral proportions … it’s light holds nature’s free forms in perfect balance on moonlit nights … black and white polar opposites held for us to see at moments of strange fulfillment … our world and everything in it … itself …

Green Luminescent Mystery …

… the world behind a veil of unseen mystery, another dimension beyond our fingertips, below the surface of our eyes, the glow of life born of plant and sun, left over light noise from sun’s creation the big bang of plant world creation below the iceberg tip of living green, giving breath to life … green luminescent luminosity … our dearest friend …

The River of Ice …

… is the borderline thread between world static and flowing, the meandering journey of time, this river of sourcefulness, stretching to points beyond … water in its manifestations most basic … liquid or solid … moving or static .. sun’s gift of life … water … the source … great amniotic fluid, the white veil of humanity … ice below the surface layered in continuum next to the green veil of other life … the two in love with each other …

Raindrops

… sit you straight with drama, natures love, each drop giving back to itself that from which it came, where it was born then lifted to cloud formations, set free to roam through air and space combined not liquid or solid gathering energy, coalescing, mingling as one, feeding all that lives …/ living water … the spring of life … drawn down upon … giving perfect grace …

Summer Light Grown Full …

… daylight splendor a rainbow of earth tones liberating depths of secrets for us to dwell on, shallow water then deeper and deeper secrets revealed, subtle vibrations of light mingle then bear witness to themselves … defined, set free for short spans of beauty; time between the cold of night, alive with clarity giving sight … make no mistake about it .. summer time is light collected …

Ice Shantys …

… habitats of hidden light life within, stark, unknown behind darkness beyond, within worlds of living beauty, on the edge between the cracks of two worlds layered; liquid state, static ice, sustaining worlds between, open portals into the dark beyond, where light lies waiting to expand …

Ice Floaters …

… lazy floating crystals swimming in their own sea set free to see, to be within random bands of time given unexpectedly … so much like you and me floating in a sea within our band of time, waiting to be reborn into new form, to be set free … us waiting to be another me … the worlds’s a metaphor for all to see, before change and reformation … once again … and again …

we see …

Summer Movement

… within the immensity lies spirit kindled, skimming over surface, joy perceived, white lines of destiny, the highest form of love within the bonds of limited time …see the moments trailing off behind … ? three two one … before melting back … joy pushing through immensity … we live our lives within the sun … before it’s done …

Fire In The Sky …

… somewhere in the distance rises up fire a gentle reminder the slow burn .. light extinguishing or coming alive or just another day gone by .. we scratch or heads in wonder but we’ll never know the reason why, all that is shown … fire burning toward light or slowly extinguished it’s all the same can’t you see …, ?

Nuclear Moon

… one night exploding over the line into our world taken by surprise stark contrast … fire on the horizon, sends us running for our eyes to see, unafraid of  knowing … believing but not sure if we’d sustain it long enough to capture  …

… fire on the horizon, tempered water … brothers in mild moderation … two beasts potential brought within limits .. the space between polar opposites a mist of noise … nuclear moon … it rises with furnace glare, immense with fear the great beastly eye then soft and gentle it moves along its way  …

Space and Time

… space and time and light is all there is .. within it everything lies .. along the great journey nuclear moon’s a gentle beast … silent beauty fills in all

spaces …

The Gray of Darkest Night

I sat and watched in peaceful trance

water cascade toward me,

it’s white caps reaching for the shore

where purest water and land met

in perfect balance.

…

A half mile off shore men fished in the trough between

shallow water colored tan and

deep water blue that extended to the horizon

then further where deepest knowledge lies hidden beyond the

fog that blurs the boundary line

of the event horizon  …

…

… when the world and everything in it

came alive!

…

an immense delta shaped cloud miles across

morphed into a giant sparrow

its tail feathers tendril-like

emerging from a roiling line of black

trailing far behind

each twisting through air

in its own unique way …

parts of the whole drifting away,

thin strands of cloud DNA

seeking like minded life forms

reforming into new more powerful forces or

receding into the mist

…

i listened for words grown silent;  empty space greater than

the sound of crashing waves,

or the passing wind that filled my ears …

when shades of gray surrounded me;

the sandy bottom of the great lake became a subtle shade of gray;

the white caps a more subtle shade … with motion …

the shoreline grass multi faceted shades,

the sky in slow diminishing muted shades of gray

slowly turning toward

the blue black of night

…

I was living in the gray zone before nighttime on the

boundary line between time when

 dreams from beyond the horizon are born

within the light of darkest night

Life … Knowledge …

This is one of my favorite pieces I’d like to share with my new readers … and re-share with those who have been so faithful and tolerant of me for some time now …  with gratitude for all your kind thoughts and actions … ks 

One day He took us to a copse of trees where we sat under a canopy of newly formed leaves beneath a clear blue sky where He gave perspectives different than any we had learned: thoughts on the “other side” of what we thought we knew …

He showed us how trees and their green leaves dance with  the wind not as separate entities rather, they are part of a larger whole with awareness stretching outward through the air we breathe then further into sun’s light and beyond even into space and time …

And we began to “see” the movements and hear the hissing of the wind passing through the moving leaves as one very large thought; and we found ourselves in the midst of a world we had never seen or felt before …

He pointed to the random patterns of the leaves within the hissing sounds of motion created by the wind ever changing … rising and falling, shooting ‘round and ‘round connected to each other with endless patterns of unique thoughts not unlike the patterns of our minds though without limit, more complex, more far reaching, not confined by the craniums of our skulls, free to gather new awareness, taking from reality the mystery of the world above and below the earth made real far, far beyond the wind and the air we breathe, able to understand the connection of sun’s rays then further … content to accept all that is true without conscious effort, a part of the whole, absorbing through their finger tips … all there is to know …

continued …

Lake Magic

Sights alive below ancient remembrance

buried deeply inside magnificent 

powerful worlds, nature’s seductive passion 

raw brilliance 

inspire irresistible forces … 

enticing night waves calm water

cold lapping kisses soft and sweet 

kiss after kiss after kiss … 

beckon shoreline movement, quickly 

rising passion …  pounding insistent

unseen forces stir wind and shore, glacial cold storm’s passionate heaving motion … 

beneath magnificent visions

thought bearing forms, divine, combined whole and perfect …

one with light and darkness 

complete and torn asunder … 

expansive womb agape

wave after wave of devastating forces

give birth … pass on sand, water, air genes bearing shoreline dreams … re-creations, spectacular shapes, different faces, new beginnings, profound beauty … newly constructed sculptures

from constant motion

held captive

for the 

taking …

The Animal Chronicles: Crows

Crows … 

 

 It

happened last spring  while

walking a winding black top road in

rural tennessee past

rolling hills

green pasture land

trees with fresh new leaves

bathed in magical sunlight on a quiet

peaceful day the

Nikon strapped under my arm

around my

neck …

…..

WHAT HAPPENED … ?!

OH … !!

my encounter with

THOSE NOISY  CROWS … !

*****

… as i rounded the curve

i encountered a gathering of ten to fifteen

in the dense undergrowth on the

opposite side of the road

all

cawing and yakking and

talking and squawking at

the same

time … !

…..

they sounded like a group of school boys on the

playground arguing and yelling

at the top of their lungs

each intent on

outshouting the

other …

…..

when they realized i stood

not thirty feet away

they became

silent …

…..

surprised … perhaps … that

they had let their guard down long enough for me to

approach them so

closely …

…..

they seemed such a funny group inside my

imagination

their

heads suddenly jerking toward me at the same

time …

their curved beaks pointing downward …

their eyes unblinking …

listening … looking stupid and

unawares

briefly startled away from the calamity and constant

clamor

of their daily

lives …

 …..

so i railed at them with sarcastic

comments …

…..

i laughed …

telling them how

ridiculous they sounded … all yelling and

crowing  at the same time …

blah, blah, blah blah … !!

…..

they remained silent …

unmoving …

…..

 i continued walking …

…..

i shouted over my shoulder that they were

ridiculously ill mannered animals

who spend all their time

behaving poorly … yelling for hours on end

forcing all manner of beasts and humans to

escape from wherever their incessent talk

could be

heard …

…..

i shouted that

they should be arrested for

disturbing the peace … !!!

and laughed even

louder … !!

…..

within seconds

i watched them fly over the tops of a

stand of trees

across the road … all

cawing at the same

time ….

…..

i waved good bye

yelling  …

HEY YOU GUYS … ! THANKS FOR LISTENING FOR A

CHANGE  … !

…..

then …

they were gone …

and the air felt soft and cool

and the tuscany sun shone on the

rolling hills giving the

whole world a magical

glow …

He Gave Us the Freedom to Explore

She looked with cold

indifference at His efforts to

teach us the the connection between

our lives and

nature …

*****

 bridge parties, the daily routines of

life and Her

afternoon nap,

were the essential

components of Her

life …

*****

He gave us freedom to

explore the sandy beaches, dunes, trout

streams and the

Great Lake where

He

fished and camped as a

boy …

*****

we spent our days

swimming for

hours at a time,

running through the

woods,

fishing in the

bay

at the end of a

dock

attached to a Coast Guard

boathouse … where

He

fished as a

boy …

*****

He taught us to

fend for ourselves to

catch food, to

make fire, cook outside, provide

shelter if

necessary …

*****

opportunities for

unique forms of

thought patterns

deeper sorts of

problem solving

more

essential

more

real …

*****

to live

impeccably

in the natural world

parallel

to

but inclusive

of

the confines of

‘’everyday’’ life …

*****

one day,

temperatures in the

‘20s

the ground covered three feet by

light wings or

 feathers …

drifting

…..

we followed his

tracks

to scrub pines bordering

dunes

parallel to the

lake …

*****

left alone with

shelter and warmth with

food …

we lived in a world of

silence

wrapped in

black and  white

the ground falling

upward  …

*****

we absorbed the world stripped of

convenience

pondering without words the

timeless mystery surrounding

us …

in a world of

liberation …

The Gray of Darkest Night

I sat and watched in peaceful trance

water cascade toward me,

it’s white caps reaching for the shore

where purest water and land met

in perfect balance.

…

A half mile off shore men fished in the trough between

shallow water colored tan and

deep water blue that extended to the horizon

then further where deepest knowledge lies hidden beyond the

fog that blurs the boundary line

of the event horizon  …

…

… when the world and everything in it

came alive!

…

an immense delta shaped cloud miles across

morphed into a giant sparrow

its tail feathers tendril-like

emerging from a roiling line of black

trailing far behind

each twisting through air

in its own unique way …

parts of the whole drifting away,

thin strands of cloud DNA

seeking like minded life forms

reforming into new more powerful forces or

receding into the mist

…

i listened for words grown silent;  empty space greater than

the sound of crashing waves,

or the passing wind that filled my ears …

when shades of gray surrounded me;

the sandy bottom of the great lake became a subtle shade of gray;

the white caps a more subtle shade … with motion …

the shoreline grass multi faceted shades,

the sky in slow diminishing muted shades of gray

slowly turning toward

the blue black of night

…

I was living in the gray zone before nighttime on the

boundary line between time when

 dreams from beyond the horizon are born

within the light of darkest night