FIRE AND STARS
24 MARCH 2014
Sparks rise with crackling smoke
in circled spirals through the pines,
the glowing warmth of burning logs
warming hands and feet beside the stone ring.
With eyes it looks upward,
he the maker of the thing,
to contemplate the night,
to speak with it within its midst,
while birds around are sleeping,
and glowing eyes prowl forest spaces.
What hour of night is it?
Where is the Sun on its last and next horizon?
Where is the Moon?
Up there, where races in the Wind
a trail of broken reuniting cloud,
the Universe lies hidden, by vapors of the Earth obscured.
He knows it.
He traces in the dirt with nearby branch a rune,
recognition to the Air, the Earth, the Genius,
a companionship and an admiration.
12 JULY 2014
Old memories from ancient times,
before the mind, before man,
rekindled in sparks and smoke,
the primal crackling
that calls deeds we know not of;
great momentous, villainous, terrible;
and there for sense, perception.
Strike the match, gather kindling
within the circles of stones.
Up into the trees it goes,
among those still living, standing,
to address the stars and night,
of man's half-conscious hand.
THE ONE THAT
26 September 2015
Two fish—of good size
One perch—one trout,
The knife is taken,
to gut the first.
The point touches.
It jumps—back into the river.
It swims away!
Ten minutes out of water, maybe fifteen!
And there it goes!
Well, at least the trout is left.
That stays dead.
Better than nothing.
The perch, hook removed,
gets to live out its short life.
1 June 2015
Down from the slopes
run angled rivulets
of torrentual coursing white
from high soaked mountains
still yet hidden in cloud.
Drifting apart and closing in
the vapors in their subtle shades
direct the spray of falling mist
that soaks the fern spruce birch forest
with pools of mirrored puddles
receiving radial concetrics
of the high-born plunging droplets.