an-unlikely-poet

[an-unlikely-poet]

To own little more than tea before bed

[an-unlikely-poet]

I saw the promise of April and all things left unsaid and unfinished. Owls and coyotes came as a reminder, bears would come soon too. Don’t they speak to you? Surely they do if you listen carefully. I felt the pleasantries of warmer breezes, a warmer sun and soon wildflowers. These flowers we all have in common. From Brooklyn balconies to Texas fields and mountainess crags of Colorado. Spoil me in your riches I cry! A turning point was certain, and we have new eyes now. No longer fooled by empty promises, we are on our own. Lift your neighbor, smile at that stranger! Go north, go west go south, but go! If only for a little while. Climb that damn mountain and fish that rolling stream! Walk that field if only to peer over the horizon. And the horizon after that. Say your piece and ask for good graces. Let their banal words perspire over you, and evaporate to nothing. You’ve heard these words before. Keep the ones from special people, special places. Place them in your book and refer to them often. Be soft...oh yes, kill them with kindness. Blow kisses from the high road and never, ever retaliate....the key to a good nights sleep. Save the pain for your pen, your paint brush, your lens of a new reality. This is no dream, only a slow and sweet reckoning. The flowers are coming my friend. Like they always do. Like they always will. April told me so, and I believed. I write this love letter to you. In age old tradition, a ceremony for a life lived...a celebration and a dance in earths great halls. Where only love belongs....

[an-unlikely-poet]

Solstice

My favorite day of the year became a simple equation

The light only goes up from here

and while hibernation has a romantic notion about it, there is not enough sunlight for me to spend it on sleep

even through the window the day can take my breath away, and I’ll take my vows outside

because all good things begin in the light of day

[an-unlikely-poet]

The gone season

[an-unlikely-poet]

A lonely tree is all that we had left

a community left in ruins

We waited for the new world

[an-unlikely-poet]

October 1

It was a western kind of month

these great valleys and plains-land kept everything a secret

to tell 31 stories about a wanderer without trade

what could possibly go wrong in no-man’s land

a fate we are all destined too

a story we all know to well

[an-unlikely-poet]

A simple cadence

I gave into the race, middle of the pack

searching for the beauty of it. And no one even heard the hawks

no one saw the hawks either

invisible thermals carry them high

and sooner far

high and far was the last thing I remember

[an-unlikely-poet]

Poetry comes in words, but words are useless in life

a byproduct of living

Ironic the moments we write

only when the dust settles

and the blood dries

[an-unlikely-poet]

The burrowing owl in flight

[an-unlikely-poet]

Something in the air

[an-unlikely-poet]

Another brutal year for planet earth 🌎

[an-unlikely-poet]

The Thirsty Country

[an-unlikely-poet]

Spring is always a long lost friend found again

[an-unlikely-poet]

Once snow, a turbulent ride from high places under rising temperatures

[an-unlikely-poet]

When is June? When all slumbers interrupted

While movement is free and easy

it is a morning month and farthest from evening biddings

[an-unlikely-poet]

We’re still here