The To Do LIst

Where did I put it
my to do list
was missing
and here I was
in the middle of the desert
with a ball-point pen
and no paper
but that was the least
of my worries
as I watched the thunderstorm
off in the distance
and only my rucksack
on my back
filled with enough jerky
to hold me over until
I tired of trail mix
and water enough
or so I thought
for the autumn day
was cool with only hints
of what could come
if I continued to hike
beside the ancient dry river bed
in search of petroglyphs
that I imagined
from the distant storm
would hold clues
to a raging muddy river
that took ancient lives
and those that survived
scratched on rocks
of a river that came
without warning but for
a roar that stopped
hearts in their tracks
and in my cargo pants
I searched again
and lo and behold
the to do list
was in hand
as I read the last
of the scribbled lines
and it said
in case of flash flood
disregard
all
of the above.

Bees

Listen
to the buzz
in the breeze
on a warm
summer day
when blossoms
fill the air
with hints
of honey
on winter toast
to come.

Wrestling

Wrestling for me
has always been
a tiring enterprise
the childhood skirmishes
on the front lawn
usually brought on
by perceived slights
the high school match
strength versus strength
is why I found chess
more to my liking
until I met my match
when my mind struggled
until it had no more to give
then I began wrestling
with words
and soon like Jacob
I would awake exhausted
from wrestling with angels
or God?
I still do not know
yet daily I arise
and so far
I do not limp.

Values Are

Values are 
what I think they are 
or let others
tell me 
what they are 
some believe God
planted inside each mind
conscience
the arbitrator of ought and not
while others believe evolution 
created 
by the process of elimination 
when oughts survived 
and nots 
died.

Before Books Became Bricks

They no longer read books
long ago 
they were used as bricks
to build shelters
and some still stand
although the dwellers 
have long disappeared
without a trace
as to who they were
yet the brick ruins
hold inside
the complete history
of all those that lived 
before books 
became 
bricks.

Comb the Web

We
the secret revealers
comb the web
gathering clues
to those long forgotten
that once faced cameras 
recording slices of time 
that once were real 
an old man reciting poetry
to a hidden audience
countless landscapes 
cityscapes
animals 
with all too many
people
frozen in time
silent minds 
with stories
never to be told.

Fair or Not?

And yet
life is so fair
that one 
can imagine 
what truth is
and with imagination 
live life 
from beginning to end
just as the mind
imagined it 
would and should
be.

Summer Winds

Summer winds blow
to caress
young maidens
walking on seashores
as waves
ebb and flow
and sandpipers dance
to the sweep
of white foam
and seagulls cry
in shifting winds
while young men
everywhere
dream of young maidens
with naked toes
on wet sand
dreaming of days
that will
never
end.

The Poet

He was one of those
who squeezed sentences
until all the unneeded words
fell to the ground
and what were left
were carefully arranged
until silent words
spoke up
and sometimes
even
shouted!

Comb the Earth

We
the secret revealers
comb the earth
gathering clues
to long forgotten
brothers and sisters
that placed stones
one atop another
carved trees
into looms
and cared
for sheep
and sheared their wool
and sometimes
bits of woven cloth
found beneath
a charred stone
and once a white
clay pipe
and a button
crafted from
an abalone shell
an arrowhead
of black flint
looked at closely
and imagined hands
chipping away
and minds
with thoughts
never to be found
lost to the winds
the stories
too many to count
and we breathe them
in our imaginations
right now.