What makes you so happy, little winged ones?
What fills your hearts with songs?
Is it the morning sun?
Is it the offered seeds?
Are you singing to your mates,
or your chicks, or your God?
I wish I could understand you,
so I too could sing a joyful morningsong.
I love the morning
streams full of joyful music
but currents run deep
Next to the rumble of the traffic
and the clatter of a train
and the chatter of humanity
I hear the birds.
Autumn arrives with a wave of summer air.
But the leaves know, and the geese understand.
Morning glories are still blooming.
But the trees are waving goodbye.
But blizzards hover just north of warm.
This change of seasons is gradual.
But all at once I’ll notice that darkness rules.
Winter’s coming is on the horizon.
But for now, I’ll enjoy the anticipation.
Leave the frantic mind in the fields, like wild ponies.
Then come and sit here in the shade and silence.
How gently it sways upon the wire
How watchfully, oh bird of mourning
Looking down upon the flower
Purple star of different morning
Glories both in juxtaposing
One the lower, one the higher
Heralds of the Present Holy
Joy of day and finest hour
Two sides of all nature’s blessings
Embodying both bliss and sorrow
In my own heart find relenting
That I too will know their power
Some are driven
Some just walk
Some are given
Some just talk
Some are easy
Some are hard
Some are breezy
Some are charred
Some rhymes matter
Some just clatter
But, however I unfold them
Not matter what they say
The words still form a poem
at the end of a long day.
nothing to plan
no place to go
just here waiting
the rest will come
I ask, why?
But the grass doesn’t ask
it just yearns to grow
I ask, what’s it all for?
But the birds don’t care
they just reach out to each other
I ask if anything I do really matters.
But the wind and the trees
and the rocks just shrug at me
Existence doesn’t ask.
It just is.
And so am I.