
On this cool mystery morning
on a rise after the rain
Might be you’re the last one standing
soundless these moments remain
Forest life force bounty
breathe in take a full step in view
Mother Earth songs calling
let their melody rest within you
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Hush now
door’s been bolted
no one here has a key
Vines form
lines where dew
lingers on cool mornings
Lone bird
nests between bars
protecting rotting board windows
All gone
she sings soft
until evening shades fall.
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Red rose lay still
in the rain
spring gardens ready
new life soon
starts again
Rose red left
lonely on wet stone
in the rain
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I go camping
I live intent
I unspoken
I content
I no words
I no news
Sun rise
Sun down.
I go town
Listen rumble
Stumble rubble
World shouting
World inspin
World falling.
I go camping
I live in tent
I reinvent
I content.
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Sundays I move quiet
through house street wood
listening for birdsong
wave off voices of what should
Sundays I step slow
close observe neighbourhood
Sunday time
sunrise to dreamline—
all mine.
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Across the room
discomfort dances lame
shadow boxing against time
two steps left slide right lean in
fiddlers soft crash codas
reeling hopefuls begin again
we are too different
we are the same
I recognize it
but not its name.
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If I didn’t stay up late
wall gazing
music swaying
wondering thinking levitating
I’d miss all
lightning storms
reckoning
after midnight.

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Why do you
sit quiet mornings
places where
no light
seeps in?
I reflect
pay homage
dream hope
to inhale one elusive
drop of stillness.


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Sundown
scavenger bird
ragman meet
to smoke
to peck
watchers hang
around
day’s denouement
old friends find
quiet
shady ground.
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Everybody talks
watch mouths
look into eyes
feel wind lift
hear birds sing
when world’s too loud
it’s alright
close up inside
stay still
quiet
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Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.