Tuesday, March 19, 2013

anticipating Spring

Memories, they weave a silken web in silence
We talk of times past in gently measured tones,
sometimes bitter humor.
We watch a bird circling in the distance,
and build patterns in the clouds.
Last year I spied a mole burrowing in
the unmelted snow of early spring.
Today I tend to think of you
smiling as you did last night
when you first saw me after parting.

Spring Medley

Air clear as a free-running stream
tumbling over country rocks and minty greenery
Clear soft air of early spring
Breathing satsang, reeling eternity,
While running 'cross the straight-lined highway
-- shouting
"Hey sky, embrace me!" shouting
I embrace the air and call it Love.
I love you, love you, love you, love you
Form, Words, Action
I in motion
I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image
over 'n' over
love you, love you, love you, love you
Capture the essence for an almost noninstant
Capture the image of groping, grabbing, grasping
gazing heartfelt on release, but
love you, love you, love you, love you
insane, insatiable
cannot touch release of
love you, love you, love you, love you
Smothering in the too pure air.

Hey, Springtime,
Got some time to be wasting
So I tracked a songbird
on a still bare treebranch
and joined it in song.
What wonder the woods bring
I can't contain it.
Thistle and briar weeds
Capture my imagination
Grow wild and tangly
All through my mind.

Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
Spring is for being born
(or maybe sometimes Winter --
something has to take you through
those long cold months of snow and ice).
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying
(when the leaves change colors
and fall and blow
into the frost and first fall snow).
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
(Why do you weep for me, sister,
long heartfelt sobs of dismay?
Why do you weep as I drift off to sleep
for many and many a day?
Today I shall die so tonight I may fly
-- with the leaves I'll be scattered away.)
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
(But I only die today that I may be reborn
tomorrow, when the warm kiss of Spring
touches the earth,
bringing promise of joyous rebirth
and months of summer sun,
when leaves turn green again.)
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.


Faded jackolantern,
darkened eyes obscured;
blooming trees
branches swaying,
picking up the tempo
dancing 'n' jivin'
in merry celebration
of Spring.
Look at us flounce our skirts
rolling our hips
licking our lips
ready to rollick,
enticing pregnant play.
Let the goodtimes roll
on down the verdant hillside
winter's sorrows
spilling out like seed
cleansed free
singing in the
flowing rain
recombinant flowers and wildlife.
Stories hidden,
tangled and mired in
tired decades of dust and gloom
swept into light by chance,
unobscured in the gently falling rain,
taken up, given honoured place
singing now in the ritual chorus.
Timeless chanting,
calling in vibrant winds.
Moving, re- and un- engaging,
ever changing,
never wholly new.

When All Fails

And it’s always on to the next adventure.
Random leaves flicker roads of desolate
trod and cried
over, fallen quicksand depths demanding
for survival.
Frozen wings, sudden sparkling cold
damp unforgiven. Bent below, tramps
expecting handouts,
bankers expecting deeds,
women expecting hollow forcomings.
There is no easy fantasy. Tales of fates and
lie on quantum desperation, haunted nights.
Winter always lurks on Spring’s horizon.
Keep moving; keep life singing, gyrating for
The road long saturated with evil, rise above.
Learn, grieve, abandon.
Envision a grander hope, shining spire

healing balm of Spring
washing winter sorrows
in hope of warm tomorrows
the flowering they bring

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