things change, even in a small lifetime, I can only imagine the ripples of time over long periods, like eons, not here, in this urban town, the burbs, the typical jersey suburb, parcels of land measured out, a lawn, a driveway, the american dream, it seems, with gusto and plows, concrete and asphalt, light poles strung like christmas decorations lining the parade route of the daily back and forth, I heard this was once farmland or even a chicken coop, but that was a different lifetime, before mine, but in my short observation, I have seen a shift in some and none, most of the birds remain the same, cardinals, jays, robins and the like, the rabbits of jack in spades have been a main stay, nervous little critters, then there are those canadians who really love to stay here year round these days, you would think they might explore the further south, and move to florida in waves, but perhaps compared to nova scotia this is like miami down, maybe they were there when I was younger, but I did not much notice the curious minions of northern parkway dogs like I do now, little watch towers looking about but oddly they seem smart enough (unlike a chicken) to cross the road as I can safely say I have not seen a flattened one, and least I forget the slyest of them all, the slinky foxes that skate along the hedge rows and meander in the shadows, to think all this life swirling about in just this tamed space, all it would take is a blink, and nature would roll into place.
feelings of fall
under the basking moon
the cool tide shifts
for sweat hides swiftly now
leaves tremble and turn
squirrels bury their treasures
the mother is tucking the edges now
the silks of spiders grows vacant
self
there is no door
there is no key
but yet
I am the warden
of my own destiny
windows…
Foote’s Pond Park, Morristown NJ… sometimes a wordsmith can use pictures to invoke imagination… so… what words can I set on you that can encapsulate the beauty here? instead of just share the experience… (reminder: I park hop all over NJ (and NY/PA/CT) and post clips of the places on my Youtube channel for those interested)
musing on the shore…
only the vastness of the ocean can make us aware of even the taste of space, the magic of glittering water in fading sunlight, each wave curling around it’s own shadows into the break, a constant, steady heartbeat, the never ending rolling, the sound of what we can only master a piece of, infinity, just sitting here trying to inhale a memory, to breath in, take internally all the masterful ingredients of this intoxicating brew, if I might sample forever, or tickle infinity, or just cozy up with eternity for awhile, but alas, time does not allow me such luxury, or anyone for that matter, in that way we are all the same, a thousand years from now or ten thousand now behind, time, almost a stranger here but ever that hand on the shoulder, but dreams can cover over the sobriety of reality in this endeavor, so surely the sun does finally log off, ending my journey, as if I am the only one on earth at the moment, not a lonesome feeling, but the ever calming presence of the ocean, pulling and waving, breathing in my ear, speaking a language older than man, but somehow the ear adjusts and understands.
this is where I was while musing… the closest beach to my house, about 15 minutes, sure, it is not like the sugar sands of south Jersey, or maybe not that pristine (but recovering), shame on me for not going more often than I have in the past, the ocean is cleansing, it is a reminder of the vastness of the world (and beyond), our small part, and the tide is therapy… at least to me…
and so the summer sets…
I wish to enter my summer dance
but alas she has already departed for the ball
so I turn my intention, to the fall
a last bounty
a sun’s retreat
the leaves relief
the carpet
so yet the grass may sleep
silent siren
upon brash and darkest night
of tides roaring to the hum of all else;
I see the light
from the shore
in the depths
of her eyes
sparkling-
calling me home
in this storm
a whisper wisps of false hope
but these long salted years
have worn me down
so even if I broke
upon those rocks
the last thing I will see
before I drown
is the light
in her eyes.
(and I can lie peacefully now
at the bottom of the sea)
musing on that new old feeling
as a child, or young adult
I used to not know this undertow (so well)
this current current
but now the flow-
so familiar-
regardless of time spent elsewhere
on other shores
on other endeavors
looking to not remember
the truth of the universal
and how this brings up my soul
wraps my heart in hope
to sail this path once more
with another-
I wonder
always the toe dip to concur the temperature
so sure-
but never
to be sure
one must endeavor
once again
those waters
to see if they flow together
(for a time or forever)
for I hope for the latter?
until the never – I shall
until that golden ring
an ending and a beginning
to be bound
once found – again.
word play, am I punny to you ? what am I clown?
a sachet
not a hatchet
the difference is sharp
to a t
all the difference
from delicacy
to a headache
sun burn
I much prefer the subtle sun
rather
than the searing heat
of peak
summer-
steam,
shimmering up asphalt
from a sudden shower,
no, for me
seventy three degrees
is quite fine
enough
to warm the skin
to keep sweat within,
let me bathe
here
in this subtle sun.
Shades of My Garden 