Unworthy Ambition

Be still, and listen to the

sounds of earth:

whispers of wind through the grass,

swaying of the branches in its dance,

how timorous the flight of

each set of segmented wings

separates time and space,

creating flight for instances

of insect peril.

How feathered beasts quell

thirsty beaks that pull back soil,

tree bark, and unroot small, 

wriggling worms or larvae in

their sleepy hovels, unearth 

small secrets hiding in plain sight,

their eyes fixed on baubles and trinkets

for their woven homes in trees.

To take flight in a moment, 

the hind’s plight, the hart’s great

test against predator and play alike.

Listen for the brook untended,

the signs of life without souls,

but not without spirit, something 

overlooked in assessing the worth

of water and rock.

It is the essence of man to take from

seemingly useless and create use,

but for this age it is a burden 

that has been cast to better men.

It is in the stillness of a meadow,

the life of what is living with us,

alongside of us, without aid,

nor merchant purpose.

That is not the fate to what we 

were given to care for, allow

the earth to rest, grow fallow,

yet industry and trade barter

better than the fields of earth,

unturned by spade or shovel, 

untouched by man’s presence

or plan. 

Where stars align under no moral,

and moon guides no purpose greater

than what it is, this is where I urge

you to listen, and speak when you

have heard me.

Hiking With Collin

I can see your face in every rock, tree and mountain,
slipping into verdant boughs, a wind shorn lullaby.
We dance below the trees,
kicking up the dust as old joints
creak and crack to keep up
with our hearts.
Where we go we haven’t decided because the forest leads this tour,
sparking even the smallest
hope within our minds
that we were once a part of nature,
not so manmade.
Kissing under cover of the shades
of leaf laden branches,
we were one together,
a unit of minds traveling.

The stars could only imitate my muted
exaltations, burning, thankfully, billions of light years that they might never reach your ears so long as you live.
As I gaze into your eyes,
and you return to me,
the zypher in my stomach,
makes my limbs awkward and clumsy.
Let me breathe the air around you,
drink you in, and consume every thought and nook and cranny of your wayward soul, in conversation.

Tell me that you love me, and confess that maybe this strange epiphany is not so one-sided.
Walk beside me.
Say my name.
Whispering every syllable, not extravagant, sarcastically, or even as a joke to a friend.
Tell me sincerely so that I might know for myself how you feel.
Hearing on your breath the catch in your throat, and the timorous way that you exhale, and sound caresses past your lips,
sweet music.
In your arms, time stands still, and we contemplate the message of the cosmos.
Consciousness entwined, as a pair of people make their way
in finding what lays just beyond
the horizon.

A Moonlit Walk on the Beach

Shadows cast along the shore
as the waves carry moonlit pieces.
Foam laden fingers reach the land
relishing the sand’s coarse nature.
Burdens lift in spirit dance that
we might offer this night’s stroll
a different scene, belated curfew.
Moistened earth harmonizing with
the sea, though it may be loamy,
that is what makes it free.
So full of life, the ocean is, the
birthplace of our fathers’ fathers,
and perhaps the sirens sympathize
that we have lost our way.