December 2014

The leafless trees
spiked and sway

the trickle
a stream
flows down around
and away

my breath
finding rhythm
I hum within.

The chill
here and there
around bends and corners
and I do not expect it to be heard
or understood

I am
I am here
to hear and hum
breathe and run
and so I do.


In the mist

I can
one day
when it rains
and I have the right boots
fit for long walks

one day
I will


Beards and Sands

Sometimes all it takes is a glimpse of the something else
and off the mind goes
on tangents.

In this case,
while reading about explorers
before maps were a household item
far before even a thought of the digital world

I escaped from my hovel of wonderment
into another place.
And considered my fascination
with the 1800's and the life of the explorers who left comfort and sanity
for distant un-American/English/Western lands
if it was adequate enough to carry one away.

A man
and his Hungarian wife
caused quite the interest
amongst Africa back then
when they
and mostly her golden tresses

I too
follow each person as if they have these
golden tresses
as if they walk
in harmony
with their lover from a distant land.

A watcher am I
to experience
filling in with my breath
what can not be known.
And care not
do I
of details
when all that is left
is faded parchment
turned to dust,
footsteps on the Sahara.