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

I

Form, Words, Action

I in motion

I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image

kaleidoscope

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.

Renewal

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

neglect

trod and cried

over, fallen quicksand depths demanding

flight

for survival.

Frozen wings, sudden sparkling cold

commanding

damp unforgiven. Bent below, tramps

expecting handouts,

bankers expecting deeds,

women expecting hollow forcomings.

There is no easy fantasy. Tales of fates and

magics

lie on quantum desperation, haunted nights.

Winter always lurks on Spring’s horizon.

Keep moving; keep life singing, gyrating for

warmth.

The road long saturated with evil, rise above.

Learn, grieve, abandon.

Envision a grander hope, shining spire

beckoning.

healing balm of Spring

washing winter sorrows

in hope of warm tomorrows

the flowering they bring