I like to imagine
Mother Nature kicking back
In her Adirondack
Enjoying the majestic dance
Of her creation
Choreographed with geological rhythm
The chuckles she must chortle
As all her little creatures
Scurry about the stage
Like so many Keystone Kops
In a silent era comedy
None more ridiculous
Than we
The monuments we erect
To assure ourselves
Of our own greatness
Barely breach
The lowest cloud
Of nature’s modest creation
While the proof
Of our existence
Is a contrail adrift in time
Dissipating in the empty sky
Of infinite space
On the cold days
I’m reminded
That most days
Life is a struggle
A struggle
To stay warm
And keep fed
To love
And be loved
A beautiful struggle
I squint into the sun
And existence becomes
A blackened vignette
With a sparkling path
Leading directly
To a burst of light
In a cloud-strewn sky
A vision I recognize
From those times of connection
When I was one with everything
And the knowledge of all existence
Seemed not only plausible
But within my grasp
Heady times
And I wonder
Was I mad then to believe
The epiphany was real
Or mad now to have let it slip
From experience
To memory
Now a personal myth
With some bluster
Does the wind complain
Drives the sea
And the clouds
To fraught disdain
In these throes do I
Count my many blessings
For the calm
Which stills me
Deep inside
Unlike the waves
Upon the water
And the sky
My mind is quiet
Without torment to promote a cry
And while horizon
Soon the sun obscures
The star within
Shines bright
With everlasting light
Water’s souciant song
White as the snow still falling
Nature’s whisper: shhhhhhhh
I make my way
Down channeled paths
Wending through
Hardship and trouble
To overcome
My flow adjusts
Weaves a line
Ofttimes turbulent
While rocks and stumps
Which interfere
I push aside
With force of will determinant
And rest I may
In respite of pools and lakes
To carry on with grace aplomb
Through demise and rubble
Soft and sharp
Lavender petals fall
On broken glass
So is the acceptance
Of our sad reckoning
Embraced in tears
Dawn already
Come and gone
First sun reflects
From wintry throne
Beneath the glow
Of cloudless sky
I hold my grief
In chill repose
The magic light
Has challenged woes
Soon comes the smile
Upon the sigh
I come for the storms
To be confronted
By nature
At her extremes
To remind myself
Of things much more
Than my self
In my calm lagoon
Of self import
I am touched
By what others
Might call God
Though I admit
To no more knowledge
Than such is divine
With I
In my little i
Of the storm
That is existence
Pix to Words 