Thursday, August 7, 2008
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algonquin tribute
Complacencies of the Algonquin Dell
Delusions of bright orange and white,
shimmering below the surface
against the mirror image
of the greens on the pond.
Soft newness of new friends –
and a certain new peace
as I gaze into the waters below.
The fish,
orange, white, yellow, blue,
are happy and calm.
The spirit of a too busy world.
Simple peace of paradise,
yet never quite there.
The push, powerful
of ever-present nature
permeates within and without
the effervescent green.
Our new fish huddle
and sniff the ground.
Night Falls
The silence of fading light
while dogs bark, cars pass.
The world moves on
casting deeper and deeper shadows
until all is a shadow.
Twisted trees dimly perceived
soon to be suspended in darkness.
May 8, 1998
May 8.
What an unusual morning it is;
frost on the clover,
the last blades of a violet tulip
still stretching to the sun,
and I, passing the last days
of my fortieth year.
Delusions of bright orange and white,
shimmering below the surface
against the mirror image
of the greens on the pond.
Soft newness of new friends –
and a certain new peace
as I gaze into the waters below.
The fish,
orange, white, yellow, blue,
are happy and calm.
The spirit of a too busy world.
Simple peace of paradise,
yet never quite there.
The push, powerful
of ever-present nature
permeates within and without
the effervescent green.
Our new fish huddle
and sniff the ground.
Night Falls
The silence of fading light
while dogs bark, cars pass.
The world moves on
casting deeper and deeper shadows
until all is a shadow.
Twisted trees dimly perceived
soon to be suspended in darkness.
May 8, 1998
May 8.
What an unusual morning it is;
frost on the clover,
the last blades of a violet tulip
still stretching to the sun,
and I, passing the last days
of my fortieth year.
Complacencies of the Algonquin Dell
Delusions of bright orange and white,
shimmering below the surface
against the mirror image
of the greens on the pond.
Soft newness of new friends –
and a certain new peace
as I gaze into the waters below.
The fish,
orange, white, yellow, blue,
are happy and calm.
The spirit of a too busy world.
Simple peace of paradise,
yet never quite there.
The push, powerful
of ever-present nature
permeates within and without
the effervescent green.
Our new fish huddle
and sniff the ground.
Night Falls
The silence of fading light
while dogs bark, cars pass.
The world moves on
casting deeper and deeper shadows
until all is a shadow.
Twisted trees dimly perceived
soon to be suspended in darkness.
May 8, 1998
May 8.
What an unusual morning it is;
frost on the clover,
the last blades of a violet tulip
still stretching to the sun,
and I, passing the last days
of my fortieth year.
Delusions of bright orange and white,
shimmering below the surface
against the mirror image
of the greens on the pond.
Soft newness of new friends –
and a certain new peace
as I gaze into the waters below.
The fish,
orange, white, yellow, blue,
are happy and calm.
The spirit of a too busy world.
Simple peace of paradise,
yet never quite there.
The push, powerful
of ever-present nature
permeates within and without
the effervescent green.
Our new fish huddle
and sniff the ground.
Night Falls
The silence of fading light
while dogs bark, cars pass.
The world moves on
casting deeper and deeper shadows
until all is a shadow.
Twisted trees dimly perceived
soon to be suspended in darkness.
May 8, 1998
May 8.
What an unusual morning it is;
frost on the clover,
the last blades of a violet tulip
still stretching to the sun,
and I, passing the last days
of my fortieth year.
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Recorded Song: Algonquin Tribute at Stone Ruins.com