Just You and I My Friends
When the Floods Come
How funny that I sit here writing poetry on my Word program. Two window open and one is this and the other a brutal negative evaluation of a international corporation. I bury them and call into question veracity and accuracy in representation. I do my “job”. Sometimes that means to tear things down that are really just fine and dandy to my mind. But I do not get paid to be nice, I am hired to cause hell sometimes.
So off I go on the sweet and natural. Like walks in nature or even tough climbing. The breath of freedom caused by the slightest of breezes. The sound of an eagle’s wings as it takes off from a perch. A tiny gurgling waterfall and the smell of natural mulch nearby. Minnows nibble at my toes as I cool them in the creek. My pad and pen come out in a blissful solitude from man and yet my best friends all around me. Phone gets turned off, as society gets tuned out. As habit the deep breathing and eyes closed settle me into a guided imagery that is the here and now and not elsewhere. I am in that place and I shall never truly leave.
Hello In There
Me in My Special Place
Oh good friends how long it has been
Excuses a plenty where should I begin
What you say you do not even care
Troubles with the world you would not dare
Let me tell oh babbling creek
Getting back here is what I seek
But worry and work they keep me sick
Not enough time to play with a stick
But today I sit here on your banks in joy
Once again alive and well like a little boy
Dandelion and Dragonfly welcome me home
Away from weary where I do roam
Well you have drought and even floods and fire
Who am I to speak of my life so dire?
War and money keep me so full time
Yes I know no “reason or rhyme”
But now we sit our hand in hand
And welcome in this glorious land
Big tall trees that sway in the breeze
And fields of clover that grow with ease
Grean and browns and shade of blue
Remind me I am at home so true.
And Peace Be Upon You in Love
Thanks for taking a little trip with me. Not to worry I am back from out there. I will stay out there for some time and will return soon. I reckon I will get by in spite of myself. Perhaps I don’t belong in this big old house or even close to the big city. Sometimes I think I cause more harm than good. Probably I should not think of it too much. Living under that big old Sycamore tree might not work for too long.