__Kelly M., I thank you for the 'woodsmoke' post; it brought me back to pond side, where the summer sunsets often introduce the moon.


woodsmoke
sunset points to the moonrise
this spire

__A morning's freezing rain, the crows argue over which bough is theirs; a pine tree umbrella. (?)


sleet falls
perching crows debate
this pine

__This... a scribbling from mid December, 2008; each story may simply melt away.


new snow
words in a drift
that form a fresh story
changing with every young eyed breeze
readers

Thanks, Jens... moonlight.


overcome
within this wall's shadow
heartbeats

Kin-met

Departure number 4:
__Plausible: the sailors of this cosmos may someday meet... our kin.


Grinding.
Beyond any conscience but their own,
The seas milled rocks into sand's surrender,
But not the sailor.
Wandering through the vague,
Questioning reason, mariners risked mortality
By chalanging this covenant:
Scholars of this cosmos, taught of life
That ceased at the horizon...
In ignorance the mariners sailed
To meet the scholar's error.

__Oceans did not spill over the edge,
__And thought, woven above the scholar's
__Sphere of liquid rule...
__Taunted wonder, and called to
__This sunset's compass,
__Those that would inquire.

__Time didn't spill over the horizon,
__It peeled back, revolving
__And returning as the global seas;
__In contrary eddies,
__Time followed the tides,
__To solve the riddles tomorrow may ask.

Tutored
That life ends at this atmosphere's horizon,
The sailors of these deeper seas
Challenge this doctrine among the stars,
And there, to learn of time's secrets
In words spoken... by Kin-met.

Lazy circles; yes, I know it's hunting, but I often envision the "Contrary."


this hawk
seeks a leafless homestead
crossroads

Veterens day.


wall of names
in this empty space
unknown

Enriched color... by the new rain; a second stanza added... call it what you will. A sedoka purist would suggest, 'it is not', thus, the space.


morning rains
to this wan brown leaf
new amber

blue jays
discuss this cold rain
each drop

There comes a time... .


steps back
into the swollen shadows
this calm

Subway Hero

Departure number 3:
__I wandered off into another [more wordy] realm; friends, I hope you like this glut of words, sincerly, _m



I had been there many times before,
And shrank in the clash of it all;
Breathing in the smells and sights...
Of this cavern, this grimy hall.

The stench of countless, rushing trains,
Burned rubber and electric sweat;
Pulsing through this living cell...
In foulest, dust beset.

Above the grinding , toneless clatter,
A lowley voice was heard;
Cutting through the screeching din...
Saying but, a single word.

"Repent." did cough and blubber through,
His spirit sodden lips;
A broken, beaten, filthy beast...
That spat through lathered drips.

"Repent," he wheezed, and again that word,
Echoed within this oily hall;
And every step he took my way...
Spurred my memory's crawl.

"Repent," he neighed as he reached my stand,
Whiskey bleeding from each eye;
He caught my gaze, then hid his face...
And spewed his crippled sigh.

"Repent," he mumbled, then spilled away,
Wretched, reeking and worn;
Sliding off in greasy steps...
He vanished in his scorn.

Stunned, I followed those sodden eyes,
For what was there was known;
And I listened for his single word...
"Repent," this drunkard's droan.

I searched and scratched through noise and filth,
To find his wasted soul;
I rummaged every crack and den...
And every wretched hole.

I found my kin, in that muck and lice,
Curled in his fetal ball;
And I prayed he seemed again to me...
As he did when, I was small.

He waved me off, and spat out words,
Preaching, I was in err;
That I should turn, and step away...
And leave him to his lair.

"Not a brother," he said, was he to me,
Don't sorrow for my fall;
Go you back, to your life of ease...
I'm no brother, after all.

Go quickly to your wife and young,
And leave me to my cave;
A rotting soul I am, you've seen...
Just searching for my grave."

Against my will, I honored his,
Stealing courage, I stepped my length;
And I heard his anxious and whispered plea...
"Brother, please leave with me your strength."
~
I've returned, uncountable times,
To this subway's sour gloom;
To search for he, within his beast...
Before he found his tomb.

But not the word, nor the sight I'd see,
Within this cavern's sore;
Of brother, or beast, or broken man...
That drunkard's soul once more.

Then one day, in horror's grasp. "Repent,"
I heard, as I spun about;
To the light of my brother's eyes...
This beast he had cast out!

"When last we met," his shining words,
"You gave as I did plea;
You took your leave, but left your strength...
And with it, I burst free.

This was my grave, this subway vault,
And hope in your leaving fell;
To the strength you left as you stepped away...
Your faith has fought my spell.

I pass your faith in fearless fight,
To my brothers barrowed near;
That they may broach their hollow hell...
And slay the beasts they fear!"
~
When I return to this evil place,
To search within its reek;
I listen for his single word, his hymn...
Is the sound I seek.

"Repent," burns through that mortal clamor,
And with this messaged call;
My brother is again to me...
The Hero, when I was small.

Cold air... the water a little warmer, and the ducks passing by.


fog swirls
above this mornings pond
duck sounds