He is dancing to the river bed beats
beneath a canopy of Douglas fir and Cedar
Step into his rhythms as you skip stones
over low rippling waves near sundown
Deep in an echo valley of moss and lichen
forest creatures pause to sway
River man brings joy to their hearts
in a sweet sorrowful serenading kindly way
Rag horses shed leftover rain
dropped overnight from clouds passing
when we were deep sleep dreaming
All of our words lay down to rest
between folds of our clothes there
next to our beds
Sunlight spreads slow up between
quiet roofs down the street beneath where
people we’ve yet to meet imagine the same
Meet me there early
Drakes and hens in calm waters
Morning lights the bog
in this way you find separation
paths familiar yet unmarked
wade into tall fragrant grasses
caresses soft as spring butterfly wings
nature’s choir harmonic tuning
humming from your chest
test your equilibrium
one leg raised for motion
hush your paradiddle heart
chin anointing clavicle
closed eyes filter morning’s sacred light
home home crescendo
sustain your hallelu
hold it close inhale inhabit
invest your all
linger with your knowing gaze
you may never feel
this ready
so alive again
Hurry your eloquent passion
Time slicing devisor of measures
Breathing’s an act of deliberate intention
Dancers like you touching ground
Leave no trace evidence for eyes
Resting comes soon with practice
A bench to contemplate grace
Warmed by hours in afternoon sunlight
Twilight arrives with patient treasure
Gathered from days of the world
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
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.
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
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.
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.
Pencil Notes 