Remember when the earth was flat,
and Santa Claus was real?
when you were young and innocent,
before you learned to steal?

When ghouls walked down the street,
one cold October night,
and bats were known to **** your blood,
in one big, scary bite?

When the fairy took your tooth,
left a coin right in your bed;
underneath your pillow,
right beside your head?

When you found bright colored eggs,
hidden by the Easter Bunny;
who really was your Uncle Ben,
you thought that pretty funny.

They warped your little mind,
by imaginary things;
today you know reality,
and what tomorrow brings.

No Santa Claus, no ghouls,
no bloodsucking bats, no bunny;
life's a struggle to survive,
and that's not very funny.

Craggy spires atop a canyon wall,
against a pure blue sky and sun;
the creek's flowing over tiny bridges,
and the day is only partly done.

Twenty miles away, lies Tucson,
you can see it's skyline shimmer;
but here is nature,  in the raw,
those are memories that linger.

Saguaros stand in stately fashion,
amongst the rock and barren land;
the views, they take away your breath,
the vistas sweeping, wide and grand.

It's 80 in this later month of winter,
this freaky temperature is strange;
I wear a t-shirt and my hiking shorts,
out here -   out in this open range.

Sabino Canyon is a place majestic,
reminding me of why I love the West;
the sky, a vast and huge umbrella,
the splendid canyon, takes care of all the rest.

Driftwood, basking,
in the early morning sun,
beside the stillness of
the water;
the day has just begun.

Warmness, creeping,
up my back and neck,
pastoral scenes abide,
at my call and beck.

Coots and loons, float by,
in a wet and dreamy landscape,
Jax and I are strolling,
it's our eight a.m. escape.

Cormorants speed by,
in fast and hectic flight,
bound for who-knows-where,
they're awesome in the light.

The walk is quite refreshing,
nature's face unfurled,
and today, at this one moment,
all's right, with all the world.

Thank You for this day my Father
full of cool and windy weather
we face the usual trials and tribulations
with joyous heart and merry measure.
Knowing that Your still in charge
though the devil is deceiving
causing turmoil, causing strife
setting wayward hearts to grieving.
But he will run when faced with truth
where God's light is brightly shining
where God's people spread His love
and His word is strong and binding.
We will praise His name forever
repenting of our sin and guilt
singing loud His songs of glory
till the edge of heaven tilts.
Till the sun goes down in darkness
till the dawn returns again
we will pray and ask forgiveness
till the Second Coming's end.

I see the lights of village dwellers
of gaudy, festive Christmas glee
that honors not our Savoir
but invades the Bible's truth we see.
Celebrating Jesus's  birth
they have the date all wrong
it's in the Autumn He was born
when angels joined in song.
The people give away their gifts
they drink the new year in
foolish resolutions made
as they frolic in their sin.
Pagan holidays fly by
forgotten in one night
they live in utter darkness
blinded by God's light.
Ignorance is bliss they say
but is that really true?
in ignorance they perish
for a world they never knew.

Pour the words out slowly,
like wine into a glass;
speak your tortured soul;
and this in time will pass.

And let the tears fall freely,
do not hold them back;
and I will give you comfort,
from what your heart does lack.

Say goodbye to precious love
that comes but once for all;
retain the varied memories,
when first you heard its call.

Bow your head for just a while,
and let the sadness seep;
but remember what you had,
and what your mind will keep.

Pour the words out slowly,
in a cherished elegy;
to the one you dearly loved,
then simply, set him free.

How splendid are your seasons Lord
that pass throughout the year
the varied times of changes
so subtle. yet so clear.
Spring comes with rain and wind
it brings forth gaudy flowers
blossomed by the sun
after each and every shower.
Summer comes with creeping heat
with sunny pleasant weather
endless days of lazy chores
without much thought or measure.
Autumn comes with colored trees
grand beauty on display
enchanted and engaging
in the coolness of its days.
Winter falls with quiet grace
snowflakes dancing down
the frost and cold come quickly
to lace the frozen ground.
The seasons come - the seasons go
according to God's plan
created by His power
and polished by His hand.

I don't think that I can find you,
when you're wrapped up in your shell;
when you go inside yourself,
you're demeanor's hard to tell.

I can't sort what's right or wrong,
all I know is, there is trouble;
and I cannot penetrate,
the hardness of your bubble.

You still remain a mystery,
someone, I thought, I knew;
someone I thought I loved,
but now, I can't see through.

You've gone and lost your self again,
a transient to the world;
locked in a web of silence,
no longer seen, unfurled.

I don't think that I can reach you,
to the place where you have gone;
and you've faded in my thoughts,
like an old, forgotten song.

Miles of roads with potholes,
and somber skies and silence;
upset my stern resolve,
and my sense of self-reliance.
Watch out for tortoises,
the sign ahead, did read;
the way was rough and bumpy,
so I had to watch my speed.
I never saw a turtle,
and nothing on the wing;
'tis but a fact I can relate,
I never saw a thing.
Just the wide expanse of desert,
and Joshua trees galore;
I was sort of disappointed,
I had expected more.
Then, from out of nowhere,
came the hurried, speeding train;
and stopped me at the crossing,
'till caboose was on the wane.

The fat cats live among us,
atop the highest hills;
they don't take generic,
inexpensive pills.
Money is no object,
it must be wonderful;
to be above the simple,
middle-class or dull.
They're gated and secure,
locked up in their own space;
you don't know them personally,
only by their face.
They are the ones that rule
by the power of the dollar;
they've degrees you do not have,
the educated scholar.
The money grabbing miser,
who sits upon his throne;
who seldom sees his neighbor,
and does not throw a bone.

I know why the caged bird sings;
it's for the hope of joy tomorrow -
it's for the hope to spread its wings
to fly away, from its sad sorrow.

It's for the dream of living free,
it's for the dream of soaring flight -
it's for the dream to only be,
for endless days that seem as night.

I know why the caged bird sings;
why his voice is strong with hope -
someone clipped his golden wings,
his songs reflect, his way to cope.

Outside his window, shines the sun
inside the house, there's not much light -
confined, he cannot fly or run,
he sings because he's lost the fight.

I know why the caged bird sings;
for being jailed - not of his making -
not knowing what tomorrow brings,
because his tiny heart is breaking.

Do you think that you can  woo me,
with tender words from tender lips?
do you think your beauty moves me,
like the face that launched a 1,000 ships?

Isn't it I, that should be wooing you?
the man that gets just what he wants;
if for a fact,  I truly wanted you...
must you, your loveliness then flaunt?

I must admit, that you are beautiful,
and with your look, I melt like butter;
knocked silly by your charm and grace,
my throat goes dry; words I cannot utter.

Do you think I can be captured by a smile,
by looks of love that radiate from you?
I suppose that by it, I might then fall,
wondering if your love is really true.

Please, let me be the one to do the wooing,
let me run after you, like any mortal man;
are you still thinking you can woo me?
heaven knows... **** well...you can!

Fading into oblivion,
I read, I write and I laugh;
riding off, into the sunset,
I have no need to gaff.

Protests are for the young,
in their moral indignation;
against the forces of the strong,
corrupt and deranged nation.

Fighting for equality,
marching off, for peace;
while the world defaults,
of wars that never cease.

The elements of life wear down,
in silent, unseen nights;
of too much grand illusion,
destroyed by endless fights.

Let me disappear into the realm,
where few would care to go;
content with treasured memories,
and pleased with nature's show.

Meditate upon the heart,
feed well the soul and mind;
give meaning to our lives,
the needful, nourished kind.

Reflect upon the heart,
the fiber of its being;
reflect upon the love,
and what the soul is seeing.

Take the Zen of silence,
give rest to troubled thought;
think on seeds of joy,
and what we've all been taught.

Free your mind from obstacles,
think on blessings we receive;
bury sorrow in its sadness,
and take not long to grieve.

Meditate upon the heart,
it mends the tortured soul;
escape the bonds of gravity,
and make heaven as your goal.

Silence is the sharpest sword of all,
for when it cuts you -
you'll not hear its fall.

Words cannot compare,
to cold silence;
its blank and hollow stare,
its muted violence.

Silence is the sharpest sword of all,
for you can't perceive its call;
it kills the thing that it loves best,
and puts all final things to rest.

All the love is silenced in one stroke,
all's been said and all's been done;
and life plays out its quiet joke,
underneath love's setting sun.

Silence is the sharpest sword of all,
for when it kills you,
you'll not hear its fall.

First, there was the darkness,
one long, progressive night;
confusion was its rule,
then suddenly, came light.
And the darkness knew it not,
as it hid from things too bright;
to camouflage its evil acts,
it shunned and fled the light.
It could not understand its God,
the darkness veiled its eyes;
it served another master,
the father of all lies.
The reason men loved darkness?
they'd do wrong, instead of right;
always sinning, always blinded,
from the heaven of God's light.
One day, they'll be no darkness,
when the serpent's cast away;
when God's Son returns to earth,
may His light come soon we pray!

Can't get enough of sunshine,
nor the wind upon my face;
can't get my fill of clouds,
or God's great, loving grace.

Can't get enough of mornings,
with the hint of pink-tinged dawn;
can't get my fill of nature,
that shouts out heaven's song.

Can't get enough of sunsets,
that fill the air with paint;
or views that look forever,
off cliffs that make me faint.

Can't get enough of music,
that's pleasing to the ear;
or the warmth of your embrace,
when you are passing near.

Can't get enough of living,
let us love until the end;
when we depart this world,
that's coming round the bend.

I love the sunshine of the morning's day
when things are still and quiet;
when the cars and noise and traffic
don't create a roaring riot.
When the brightness of the hour,
pushes darkness to it's grave;
when to the coffee's flavor,
I am still a slave.
When the pace of life is muted,
when the breeze has not yet stirred;
when all the music is a bird call,
the only song that's heard.
Then I can face the afternoon,
and take whatever comes my way;
for once in motion, life takes place,
as time slips on away.

Someplace down the road
Lord Jesus waits for me
He's counting I show up
for His truth has set me free;
He's the prime example
we must follow in His way
He'll give us the strength
to get us through the day.
Someplace down the road
I'll run into my Savoir
His words are full of love
It's Him that we must favor;
by faith and our endurance
we can overcome our trials
changing frowns to grins
changing scowls to smiles.
Someplace down the road
I'll be a resurrected soul
replacing flesh with Spirit
then -  becoming whole.

Full moon over Pinetop,
over purple mountains crest;
it's daybreak straight ahead,
and I am headed west.

I stop to have my coffee,
a Denny's up ahead;
why did I rise so early,
from the blankets of my bed?

I cannot sleep past light,
that steals into the room;
I need to get past town,
before the traffic's boom.

I'm just a stranger here,
my place lies far away;
I cover many miles,
before the noon of day.

But the full moon over Pinetop,
stays in the memory;
of enchantment in the sky,
just alone for me to see.

When the daylight fades to night,
when the sounds of traffic cease;
when the moon's a slice of heaven,
that's when my soul's at peace.

When the stars cry out in silence
when the darkness hides the light;
when sweet slumber covers me,
then I sense the world's all right.

When your love forgives my sinning,
when your strength, it makes me weak;
when I praise your name in prayer,
that's the solace that I seek.

When the wonder of your name,
becomes my only choice;
in the quiet of the room,
I hear your precious voice.

When the blessings flow like water,
when your grace becomes my song;
then the pace of life is pleasure,
as the days of life are long.

Why weren't you satisfied,
with being perfect, therefore pure?
your had your pride and lied,
That, He never could endure.
You set yourself too high,
from that great height, you fell;
became the father of the lie,
the reigning mayor of hell.
Son of the morning, you once shone,
an angel of great rapture;
but you sought the highest throne,
to cherish and to capture.
Now, your power's here, on earth,
to blind the hearts of all;
shirking your angelic birth,
taking others with your fall.
You've corrupted many men,
by your insatiable desire;
but He'll bring you to your end,
in the terrible last fire.

Forget iambic pentameter,
or rhyming every line;
your a poet or your not,
if you think you are-that's fine.

Forget the mystic musings,
let's call a *****, a *****;
just give it all you've got,
hey, we're not getting paid.

Forget the morbid statements,
they don't get you anywhere;
and if they ever did -
who the hell would care?

Call the glowing rose, a rose,
not some flaky, foolish flower;
call a downpour- heavy rain,
not some puny shower.

Call it love or call it hate,
not some stupid choice;
but shout it from the mountaintop,
in your strongest voice!

I wouldn't be alarmed
if you should go;
I've never been afraid
of mice you know.
I wouldn't watch you
take your leave;
I've never been the type
to sit and grieve.
I won't shed tears
now that you've gone;
we were miscast
and never got along.
I'll clean and wash
just as before;
prepare my meals
shut every ******* door.
With closed curtains
I'll cherish privacy;
I'll be a glad recluse,
if by chance, I need to be.

What is this song today?
that I hear in my head;
that implants memory,
that to my mind does wed.

It's the song of Nature singing,
with eagles flying high;
with clouds a-swirl in heaven
in thunder's mighty cry.

It's the sound of lovers laughing,
from the scent of some sweet vine;
that invigorates the senses,
and stirs the docile mind.

It's the song of tearful joy,
when the music is just right;
the comfort of a peaceful sleep,
that takes us through the night.

That's the song I hear today,
that's the song that never ends;
that's the sound that heaven loves,
the music that God sends.

There is sunshine in the rain that falls from heaven,
golden sun-drops that you cannot see;
in the wetness of an autumn storm,
behind the clouds, waits clarity.

There is perfume in the air, when the rain is gone,
when earth stands fresh and washed, anew;
a colored bridge shines in the distance,
against a sea of vivid blue.

And like life, each storm is slowly passing,
some are rather brief and some are long;
we bid farewell to Summer's magic,
now we relish in September's song.

There is sunshine in the rain that falls from heaven,
through the mist that cools and covers all;
and we are ready for another magic season,
that will herald in, the reign of fall.

There is a love, that doesn't know a boundary,
it's unconditional and given free;
no limits to its everlasting arms,
security and comfort just for me.


There is a peace that passes understanding,
a quietness that has no name;
you give your burden up to Him,
He'll take away the awful pain.

There is a blessing, one can never measure,
it's like a fountain from on high;
it's a richness money can't obtain,
we should never pass that blessing by.

There is a joy, that fills the mind and heart,
that brings sweet solace to the soul;
a happiness that's a constant  pleasure,
it will fill you up more than you know.

There is a love, that flows just as a river,
winding strong and gently to the sea;
serene and calm, it lies there, waiting,
waiting patiently, for you and me.

Hi Judy -

Here I am in sunny Arizona
a mile high, up in the hills
bought myself a ranch house
nothing fancy, no silly frills;
Hope you are doing well
sorry that I left so fast
but our marriage was a shambles
and I knew it couldn't last;
I bet you hate my guts, for leaving
please tell the kids - hi for me
I'm hoping to be back for visits
but for now, I'm enjoying being free;
I will call you when I can
but do not hold your breath
you know I'm irresponsible
and you know...you said it best;
Just a postcard from the wild
so you'll see that I'm all right
gotta say so long my love
forgive my sudden flight.

- Punch

I am content with sun and sand,
atop the arid hill on which I stand;
watching shadows slowly spread,
my heart and soul are aptly fed.

The wind blows gently on my face,
and across the vast and empty space;
where there are things we cannot see,
alive and moving,  far from me.

The heat is absent from the day,
the sunset, begins its magic play;
the clouds, first pink, then red,
like some great wound, it's bled.

Then suddenly, it's twilight time,
as the hours, continue to unwind;
as I greet darkness, my old friend,
reminding me, it's near the end.

My life is pleasant and content,
with things I love and have spent;
the sun and sand are but a little trace,
all that I've enjoyed, while in this place.

Engaged in quiet conversation,
I asked how you had been;
you looked truly marvelous,
so nice to see you once again.

How were the kids and hubby?
you showed a picture from your purse;
then said you were divorced,
but things could be much worse.

He gave you pain and alimony,
but not amenability;
on how to raise the children,
on that he'd disagreed.

But you had to leave or wither,
your fruit was dying on the vine;
and when you asked for peace,
he said he didn't have the time.

Is there something I could do I asked,
to smooth out this bad news?
you've already helped she said,
it was nice of you to schmooze.

It's a morning like no other
fresh and somber, quite unique;
it's a matchless wonder
of the poetry I seek.
Wrought with burning fire
that lights the eastern sky;
ceaseless repetition
and all that it implies.
My heart is filled with wonder
my soul is full if love
as the morning light progresses
expanding from above.
The envelope of hope
the promise of a dream;
that dwells within the mind
of a vast exploding scheme.
Treasures fade in memories
the sorrow does not last;
as we cling to happiness
to this life that we hold fast.

I told you
not to
call again,
but you
don't hear
so well,
our relationship
is over,
face it -
we could
never jell.
We could never
share the dreams,
that lovers often do;
we could never
hold the cup
and
drink the lovers brew.
Chalk it up
to fate,
to obstacles
too strong;
we were in a
tango,
where we,
did not
belong.
The fireworks were brief,
one big spark
and one big
frizzle;
it rained on
our parade,
in one long
constant
drizzle.
We could never
grasp the prize,
that lovers often do;
we always came up
empty,

and in a moment's
time,

we suddenly
were through.

The darkness passed,
the sunshine of my heart;
threw me for a loop,
the way it came apart.

It was sudden and complete,
once stopped, it did not start;
the shadows never left,
the eclipse of my heart.

To begin, the day was bright,
no clouds up in the air;
blue skies and a breeze,
we were a happy pair.

Then the sun just disappeared,
without warning, without sound;
I searched, but you weren't there,
you were lost, and never found.

Now - I'm half of what it is I was,
you were my strong and major part;
now -  it's fading all away,
with a total eclipse of my heart

Be faithful until death,
and you'll gain a crown of life;
overcome the obstacles,
that unfold as pain and strife.
You are made of sterner stuff,
to praise and honor Christ;
to suffer persecution,
with each throw of the dice.
There's a better world awaiting,
after ours comes to an end;
there's a new earth in the making,
around the final bend.
Hold fast to all its promise,
the deaf will hear, the blind will see;
the sun will shine on everyone,
in the new eternity.
Every knee will bow to Him,
the sinner and the saint;
take heart to wait that day,
never worry, never faint.

Your blood spills haphazardly down my shirt,
as I hold your still warm body close to mine;
savoring the moments of your last breath,
as our souls and spirits inter-twine.

Your last words to me were garbled,
I could not make them out, I swear to God;
perhaps you cursed me with your dying breath,
but what the hell, that's not so odd.

It was not me that took your life,
it was a shot that came from over there,
the bullet pierced your skull and brain,
and I could only stand and stare.

Too late to save your tortured brow,
too late to stem the awesome bleeding;
but it's a mortician, not a paramedic,
that soon your being will be needing.

I ease you gently to the ground,
on top of leaves that now are falling;
with autumn's colors mixing with your blood,
and my eyes are full of tears- (I'm bawling).

You were to good to die at your young age,
you'd a life that was not yet half done;
but no one can determine their demise,
that fall beneath the dying sun.

I buried my anger in the ground
out of sight and out of sound
buried hate and fostered love
got the message from above.
Found the truth and cut out lies
sang His praises to the skies
gave forgiveness, got it back
mended all my hidden cracks.
Got the blessings that I need
cut off envy, swallowed greed
gave my burdens up to Him
turned my back against all sin.
Fed myself the Bread if Life
fought off Satan, eased the strife
put His mighty presence first
from His fountain, I don't thirst.
Became instead, a new creation
raised my soul to a higher station
wrapped myself in His great Being
aware of beauty I was seeing.

Was there a note? she asked.
Nothing we could find, I said.
(isn't the gun quite enough
to say that she is dead?).

Was she acting strange? I asked.
Nothing out of the ordinary, she said.
(the body's now inert,
from where the soul has bled).

Suicide comes quietly,
oft times, without a clue;
is the heart that now lies dead,
the one we really knew?

What of her charm and smile?
what of the love and laughter?
why leave a grotesque answer,
to what we call disaster?

You sure there is no note? she asked.
Nothing we could find, I said.
I never even suspected, she claimed,
as more copious tears were shed.

The wind is ever constant,
in subtle waves, it moves;
it's felt and yet unseen,
invisible, breezy grooves.

Magic fingers in the air,
weaves its tapestry;
quite refreshing to the face,
that knows but does not see.

The air is sweet in Springtime,
the kiss of genesis;
beginning every March,
ending in June's bliss.

Weep not for winter's death,
embrace instead the Spring;
that quickens every step,
in what the season brings.

The hint of love in blossom,
the touch of day-time showers;
the scent of perfume in the air,
from sunny, blooming flowers.

Winter's sun gives little warmth
but Your word is a fire;
I strive and pray for truth,
You give me my desire.
Your word is strong within my heart,
it keeps me on the path;
away from worldly sins,
it stays me from Your wrath.
I'll take each day of life,
and praise You for its blessings;
for giving me the moral choice,
instead of mankind's guessing.
The hours of my days are blessed,
by Your eternal guidance;
and I sleep safely in the night,
by Your sweet reliance.
The season pass and quickly go,
yet Your word lasts forever;
creating bonds that last for life,
beyond all human measure.

Now let us speak of love
for love is what you are
let us also speak of joy
for you are its shining star.
You keep me safe,  awake
you keep me safe,  asleep
warm me with your laughter
it's seldom now - I weep.
You bring the sunshine in
you keep dark clouds away
I never have to worry
that by my side you'll stay.
You bring to me the rainbows
and place them at my feet
you're cause for celebrating
when first our hearts did meet.
Yes,  I must speak of love
for love is what you are
when you send it all my way
then you're never far.

I have no green thumb,
the flowers see me coming
and laugh,
the roses are smothered
by the aphids climbing
their stalk;
they pay no attention
to my consternation,
they just balk.

I have inadvertently killed,
green plants and their seed;
no matter how I fuss and fume,
for me, they have no need,
they often seem not to care,
when I set out to ****.

I cannot tend a garden,
no matter how I try,
somehow, they see me coming,
as if to watch them die,
regardless of my sigh.

My thumb is never green,
I can't control my nurture;
they wither on the vine,
look as if they've been tortured.

I must choose another hobby,
before I lose my mind;
a thing that don't mind dying,
as I learn not to be unkind.

The weather's mild for winter
like a January thaw
perhaps a quirk of some kind
of nature's improbable law.
We get rain instead of snow
we get snow instead of rain
it happens frequently
****,  here it is again.
A t-shirt & long-sleeved shirt
they keep the chill away
I hike a spotted muddy trail
as morning leaves its stay.
The sun plays hide and seek
with cotton colored skies
the lake is hosting mallards
I hear their winsome cries.
It doesn't seem like winter
in fact, it's more like spring
and as always, I'm enchanted
by what the weather brings.

Where it ends and where it starts,
it's seldom that I know;
I reach for thoughts inside,
and then, just let them flow.

Like the seasons, my mood changes,
sometimes buoyant, sometimes not;
sometimes crazy, sometimes sane,
but never borrowed, nor not bought.

The winter starts with coldness,
with frost and ice and snow;
with chill and slippery steps,
with northern winds that blow.

It starts with night-time darkness,
so much longer now, than day;
we hibernate to quell the time,
to push the night away.

Today, the season's got me,
as I muse on its arrival;
forgetting all my leisure,
dwelling on survival.

Must I reject my God
because
the world's in turmoil?
because the world is
sinking fast?
Must we always make
excuses?
for what we know,
will never last.
In Noah's time, the
same was happening,
mankind's fate was
forever sealed;
the flood was greater
than man could cope,
in their sins they died,
never saved, nor healed.
And now the curtain
falls again,
will you escape its hell?
or will you die in sin?
like Eve and Adam fell?
Must I reject my God?
because
things didn't go my way?
because
no answers came
when I knelt down to pray?
I will fall for Christ alone,
and not for any man;
for worldly men of flesh,
they'll never understand.
Just what God is -
and stands for,
for the blood Christ shed
for all;
for His Power
and His Glory
is what makes us
stand tall.

You stand the test of time
when all else falls away;
when things no longer matter
but the dawn of each new day.
There's the beauty in the heavens
when the sun fills up the sky;
when the blue is just amazing
where the crow and eagle fly.
You stand the test of time
when all shadows fade from view;
and the darkness is eclipsed
by the truth I never knew.
Until I felt my heart melt
as the lies died one by one;
I stood apart from my life
ashamed by what I'd done.
You stand the test of time
it's of You that I have need;
I've now risen from the ashes
from my selfish, petty greed,
I don't understand the peace
but it fills my soul with pleasure;
goodbye to all that's tainted
I now have found my treasure.

The wind is rushing thru the willows
they arch and bend but do not break
the gusts of air are strong with power
unanchored on the porch,  things shake.
The green carpet rolls itself into a ball
the chairs around a table fold and fall
large big stuff holds solidly in place
things that go in motion are mostly small,
I feel some drops of rain but not too much
no thunder and no lightning do appear
the torrent of the wind is hard and steady
my dog takes caution - into the house
he won't return outside until he's ready.
I stand, let the hurried breezes hit my face
like a sea captain , most assured, would do
bracing myself alone - against the storm
happy and contented, to see it through.
In grudging, humble admiration, I submit
to nature's sudden,  wild and wacky ways
it's rare and scarce and quite bewildering
it livens up and and embellishes my days.

Age follows me,
like a puppy, all around;
I can't shake its shadow,
we just go round and round.

The days pass by much quicker,
the nights, they come too soon;
and in between, the hours fly,
with a crass mind of its own.

That's life; you cannot slow it down,
trying - it never seems to jell;
I'm running to a different clock,
some days, it's just as well.

With age, comes greater wisdom,
at least that's what they say;
my seriousness has faded,
but I had it-  back in the day.

So, I relish all the sunsets,
that time provides for me;
as I await the final one,
whenever that may be.

Mud and snow, block the path,
we slow, and find our way;
the sun is bright, the skies so blue,
are the reasons that we stay.

Darkened pines obscure the view,
of snow-capped peaks far off;
we dodge the rock strewn trail,
puddles shine, like brownish broth.

Then, the hillsides open up,
a thousand feet, above the road;
the highway is a serpent,
through the mountain's fold.

The air up here is pure and clean,
it rejuvenates the being;
the soul is stirred by visions,
of the beauty we are seeing.

We hike until we're tired,
though our weariness is nice;
for this time and for this moment,
this walk...   it will suffice.

Howdy George -
Here I am in sunny Arizona,
the heat is fine and mellow;
it warms the bones real nice,
I'm a fortunate, happy fellow.
The sky is very blue and clear.
I can see for miles and miles;
the people here are friendly,
they're tanned, full of smiles.
The women, are most lovely,
light-browned, very charming;
and their smiles are best of all,
totally disarming.
In the distance, purple peaks,
twice as high as here;
in the clearest air I've seen,
they seem to be quite near.
There's something special here,
that old-time places lack;
I'm already indoctrinated,
and I might not make it back.
See, I've put all cares aside,
and I'm drinking ice-cold beer;
but still I say to you, old friend,
sure wish that you were here.

- Dave.

Is it me or is every one in a hurry?
the people walk too fast, they scurry;
'tis the time of year, I suppose,
but don't you stop, to smell the rose?
Don't you slow, to catch the breeze,
don't you say thank you or if you please?
are we so obsessed that we don't see?
do we forget cordiality?
It's that time again, my friend,
when our best wishes, we should send;
reach out to those in dire need,
give a gift and plant a seed.
The Lord, He loves a cheerful giver,
stay way from ***** and save your liver.
Take your time, don't make haste,
time's a precious thing to waste;
the holidays will soon be gone,
till then bask in December's song.