Gray Area (Halloween Spirit)

the whole way home was well lit
a street light every ten paces
fifteen paces for twelve-year-olds
safe in that direction until
we came upon the house
the one around the field
along the way
where it was dark all the time

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Sleep Away Camp

by cabin four, sitting on a crooked step
forest sounds could be heard
trees whispering
brooks babbling on
birds fight for a sleeping spot

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In the Heat of the Moment

we used to catch grasshoppers on sun kissed Saturday mornings

between that and sliding down the hill on torn up cardboard our day was filled to the brim

laughing and carrying on in the void of time

taking trails and pathways in the forest to places we stored secrets and where monsters dwelled

sometimes, we’d blow kisses at dandelions sending them on journeys to who knows where

while shielding the sun from our brows to see where we should go off to next

my calculator watch blinks half past three, one hour til supper, still time to explore

the fish plant whistle sounds, and we look across the harbour just like the last time we heard it

this time a big boat captures our attention wondering what adventures they’ve had, how high were their seas and were there pirates

a seagull soars high squawking its return, coming back to us for a visit, it was never the same one….but we didn’t care

those days were hot, the ocean was cold, our little boy hearts warm

in the heat of the moment we thought the world stretched forever from the hillside where we perched and one day we would get to see the rest

for now, our world was big enough because our dreams were much much bigger

Post of Christmas Past # 8 – The Office Secret Santa

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

Ah…the office Secret Santa. An annual festive get-together with your fellow coworkers. The people you spend a big portion of your daily life with. A second family, some would say. It’s a chance to enjoy a holiday break with that family, away from the weekly grind, and to take part in a little giving and receiving. I’ve been a part of a bunch of Secret Santas in my day. Most if not all of my former places of employment have practised the tradition and it’s no different at my current job. My law firm partakes as well. Each time, a fun experience. This year’s Secret Santa email dropped in my inbox last week. I picked my person to buy for yesterday. It was my first sign of Santa’s coming.

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Earth to Ash Podcast – Episode # 3 – Thank You For Being A Friend

AUDIO VERSION

A Shade of Ash # 15 – Today’s A Given

As another day sets, I stand in retrospect and watch as the sun goes away…maybe forever. A few minutes left of today to ponder some yesterdays with an old friend who has since lost his battle. Sadly, I am reminded of one of the realities of life is death. And, how sometimes we take life for granted not knowing for sure if tomorrow will be. – Ash

Just Before The Bridge

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

four shadows passing by midnight 
the king, the jack, the ace, and the joker 
pushing and shoving…jousting in jest 
their laughter lulling the moon 
as street lights froze everything in time
and the world just slept 
shuffle and stroll in the wake of the chopping shore
they poked and praised, challenged some more 
free until the sun began to peek 
then they retreat with the dampening dew 
enough stories for a thousand tomorrows
from a single night
a key to a forever yesterday

For What It’s Wharf

Don’t take any ship. If friends dock behind your back, they should not be a port of your life. – A Little Pun Ash

Journal Entry # 212 – It’s How I Field

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Friends come in flowers, some in weeds. The flowers rise with us, support us, and share in the things that help us grow and prosper. The weeds smother us, try to take us over, steal all the sunshine and choke out life until we fall. When you plant your gardens, make sure you can tell them apart. – Ash

French Island

Photo by Ray Bilcliff on Pexels.com

surrounded in the francais
schoolboys like I, chase through stone corridors in jest
pass tank topped bread makers and
rum runners filling dark sacks
who was I to speak to the going-ons of this foreign land
take me instead to the countryside
in an hour less a half
share with me tales
let me sip wine
and pretend that I am a man