Shadow Lake

The road winds into the distance
rocks, roots, puddles and mud
draw them higher.
Each step one closer to the lodge
built years ago by others
who passed beneath more youthful trees.
Trees that now bend and sway
creak and groan as they lean
to hear conversation below,
chatter to ease the monotony
of the upward stretch.

Clouds twist and tumble
tease with grey and blues swirls,
jackets on and off
in rhythm with their play.

Each stride squashes every day worry.
Layers of adult responsibility shed
as boots splash and smiles spread.
Friends greet each other,
prairie dogs happy to ascend to the alpine,
to explore new territory.
Covered in mud they giggle,
children who play in the rain
because they can.

Thunderstorm

thunderstorm

flash, crash, wake-up Now!
huddle under covers with each strobe of room
power, anger, fear, Boom!
exalted energy bursts of awe
percussion clangs off skyscraper walls
and gives wings to emotions with each sound
overhead whomp, whomp, whomp steps heavy
metal chimes jangle
fast notes tinkle
pica-pica-patta-pica
wind and rain strike a rhythm
tap-tap-rat-a-tat-tat
rumbles echo, bang, rattle, roll,
they swell, ebb, drift away

Blank Page

A page stares blankly up at me.
I curse and rant.
I wave and point my pen.
Yet the paper remains unmoved.

I pace my room.
I look out the window
reciting to this stationary sheet
all that I could be doing.
I could be walking the paths in spring sunshine
with the many other Sunday strollers.
I could be planning tomorrow’s dinner.
I could be,
I could be doing anything but trying to write!

The unmarked note pad
waits patiently,
vacant.

I am irritated by its emotionless state.
So I write.
To shed my emotions.

I want to mar the page!
Deface its untouched, barren territory.
I write forcefully to deny
empty, white space
a place upon my desk!

I spill language
that brings life to feelings
that were masquerading
as restless energy.

Puppeteer

An ornate time piece on a wrist
jeweled
shiny, elegant chrome chronograph
or matte finish
functional
practical, purposeful chronometer

A puppeteer’s handcuff
controlling movement subtly
directing thoughts subliminally
a marionette to be pushed, pulled, directed

Steady tick, tick, tick
hypnotizes
activity done mindlessly
going through motions without attention
glazed eyes
striving to make it from one
paycheque to the next
without breaking the strings of the masterminder
oblivious to the pull
of the masterminder

Second hand sweeps
behind the minute
behind the hour
striving to move ahead
but wired into place
hour leads
minute follows
second lapses
wired into place
pulled along by the others
gears and cogs manipulating movement
invisible strings manipulating movement
time manipulating movement

World focused on clocks and calendars
great energy expended keeping up to the time keepers

Obsession with timepieces
and calendars is restricting
what is this competition that has been thrust upon wrists,
on walls, on clock towers in time squares
town squares

Shirk wrist pieces, cell phones
anything that strives to own your being
Pay no attention to these measurements
these pushes and pulls
prods to direct you

Allow no thoughts of time to settle upon you
consume you
control you
and watch your mind settle
rest
and give birth to new ideas

Magical Brew

tea

Autumn sunshine
burst of energy
dark clouds banished for now

flags blowing
crisp attention
patriotism on display
no indication of alchemy at hand

delicate flavors
sweet aroma
hint of mystery in a cup

it’s magic
in a cup
magic steeping
brewing
in a cup

time stands still
with the meeting of two friends
encapsulated in a hug
encapsulated in a cup

a spell is cast with the first sip
the first kiss
the first sip of tea
that kisses the lips

roar of an engine breaks the enchantment
boxes are delivered
bicycles scoot by

music plays
patio drinks and laughter
weekend at hand
but
the mind is lost
steeped in memory
passion brewing
heat of magic
conjured in a cup
lingers on the lips