Autumn Moon

In the chill night air of autumn
I lay down on a rainbow
Of dewy grass and withered leaves
To watch the super moon rise
Between shedding branches

Misty Island Hop

There is a place
I’ve never been
Far across the water
In billowed shrouds of mist

A place of wistful
Beckonings
To my
Imagination

The Wire Man spoke
Substance, said It
Is a matter
Of subjective opinion

I am naught but wire
Wrapping a steel skeleton
On top of which rests
A pattern of thoughts

It is not always the brightest light
Which illuminates the finest detail
I remind myself to investigate
What even the dimmest light reveals

Even in a world of grey
I seek the beauty to be found
In the delineation of tone
The somber dance of line and form

I find peace, calm
In a space undistracted
By the flash of colour
Or the dominance of black or white

It is my city
Across the inlet
Vibrant and beautiful
Mundane and passionless
A sometimes sleepy little town
On the edge of it all
Terminal city

But from here
Across the inlet
It resembles only
A small forest of brick and steel
Concrete and glass
Its denizens
Too small to register

Like leaves we touched, he sang
But I could not understand
Until I had not been touched
For all those many years

I am the tree
Not just the leaf
I manifest

Not of the tree
Not separate from it

But the tree, itself

Some days
It’s like waking
Into a surreal world
Unfathomable events
Unimaginable consequences

I remind myself
The chaos of such moments
Brings change
The necessity of it
The inevitability of it

Down into the depths
Of this world
Of my spirit
Plunged the Bright Angel

Bringing light
To darkness
Bringing purpose
To doubt
Bringing meaning
To listlessness

Harder to hit
More fun to drive
A pleasure to touch
A challenge to follow
Tangle of wire
Plateful of noodles

Arc vs line
Hard vs Supple
Crooked as a fish hook
Straight as an arrow
The well-trodden path
The less-travelled fork