Everything I touch
Falls apart just as it should
In the compost pile
I’m at that stage in life
Where decay is
Everywhere I look
And that’s okay because
Creation is too
Though we journey to the West We pray to the East More or less that's the way Each day begins and ends It’s a tale everyone ...
Everything I touch
Falls apart just as it should
In the compost pile
I’m at that stage in life
Where decay is
Everywhere I look
And that’s okay because
Creation is too
All the long stem grasses
Have gone to seed
The Queen Anne’s lace has proliferated
And the afternoon shadows
Overtaken the lawn
About the fall there’s
Little room for doubt
Nor is there need for further effort
Henceforth everything shall
Proceed by grace
Time flows through my veins
Rocks are the sort of thing
I simply choose to go around
Yes, I'm persistent
And impetuous
Single minded
But multidirectional
On occasion I've been known
To reverse myself
At times I think on a monumental scale
And am perfectly comfortable
Playing the long game
Carving up continents
With the ease of a knife
Passing through butter
You can follow me upstream
To my native source
Where you'll find
I'm hyper articulate
Though fond of digression
And forever changing course
Like language itself
I am the river
Never one or the same
Time flows through my veins
Every second another drop
The high holy days
Of summer - the zinnia
Beds in full glory
The butterflies with
Their anthers full - the humming birds
Incessantly humming
The bucket of cherry tomatoes
Overflowing - the sun drenched
Kiss of hypertrophic growth
Everywhere on display yet
Indolence abounds
And even the red hibiscus
Singing its arias can’t keep me
From succumbing to the
Swinging cadence of a nap in
The backyard hammock
Tonight around twilight
I stood in the garden
And imagined
I saw the admiral
Garden hose in hand
Addressing the fleet
Tomorrow we set sail
On a voyage of discovery
He said
The Swiss chard leaves·
Billowed on the breeze
And the spray of the hose
Spattered across the prow
Of the raised bed
With its semi precious cargo
Of sugar beets
And altogether there were
Four rows of potatoes
Safely stowed away
Down below
And enough cherry tomatoes
To feed the entire crew
No matter how long
The voyage might
Turn out to be
With a limp all my own
It’s better than ever
More perennials than ever
To adorn my front lawn
Whereas he has a prodigious memory
And has learned by heart
To recite pi to
More than 3,000 digits
I can barely remember
What year it is sometimes
Yet still I manage
To comfort myself thinking
Who needs pi really
Life is all about triangles
For most of us humans
Knowing how to progress
From here to there
By making comparisons
Like me and my brother
All day long in disregard
Of the need for absolutes
Who needs one or the other
When you can be both in turn
I put a bag of dog poop
In the pocket of my fleece
Along with another bag
Of doggie treats
And when I got
To the garbage can in town
I threw away the wrong bag
And continued home
With a pocket full of poop
The best and the worst
Become interchangeable, it seems
That’s sometimes how life works