in a strange city
both sitting at the bus stop
hoping that one’s home
my face lay against the sweltering rock
with one side toward the sun kisses
clouds above me stream along
shapes and sizes I make
a tickle breeze keeps me away from biting flies
my knee is skinned and bleeding a little
is it supper time
as a whistle blows
cars scurry home like ants
wait…is that a plane
then we jump
from the rocket-like stone
twist our ankles to the ouch side in
wince and run the whole field in one burst
we reach that one spot and act like kings for a summer second
looking down on the kingdom
running into battle against invisible soldiers
to break through to reach home
where there’s a bush with some berries
by the picket fence and an ant hill
I ate five
you a handful
back then…
back before supper
more comfortable
when I walk home in the fog
I recreate it
when I was young
I took the back arm way home
where the town ended and the forest began
the whole journey protected
by those evergreen trees I shared days with
every step was like a play
knowing the parts by heart, knowing the story to home
running along in places
others stopping for a spell
little legs, lasting time in the in-between moments of my once-life
on the edge of my seat.. bout 6:30
my best behaviour on display
the only way someone else taught me
all the rain had just stopped
as I watched a man walk through beads
that time in the evening
of a September day
is a feeling
a time when thoughts can drift
when sound stays quiet
the road a certain hue of grey
like the sky, maybe one shade away
sometimes I look down and count the patches
kick the broken asphalt
to the dirted sides
where the trees grow
the berries bush
and flowers wild
I look harder at things
appreciate that I am
then
remember someone
think of some time
escape back to a similar place
that time in the evening
I could see into kitchens
and all those moths swarming the post-office lights
hear dogs and guess which one
see cats and watch them go home
smell sawdust and smile
that time in the evening
of a September day
was a feeling
Welcome back, join me and my continuing conversation about my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to the world around me.
In this episode, I’m walking on some early Saturday sunshine chatting about the end of summer. I speak a bit about how this time of year has a feel to it and how many of us are scrambling to do all things summer in the final weeks of August. And, as always, I throw in a poem for good measure.
Enjoy!!
Email: earth2ash@gmail.com
Welcome back, join me and my continuing conversation about my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to the world around me.
In this episode, I’m on a walk and tear-jerking with a few of my memories. I’m also caught in a vibe I just had to share because it makes me feel good to be alive and great to have lived so much already. And, as always, I throw in a poem for good measure.
Enjoy!!
Email: earth2ash@gmail.com
those days we spent in the dory
barely a word was shared aloud
our language was unique to only us
on the nicest of days that were just for you and me
no sun, grey skies, grey ocean…with a hug of a fog
you had no idea but I loved watching you
in awe…
of my captain
my grandfather, only different
when I did, I felt safe and sound
adventurous…like your first mate
catching our bounty of fish for dear Theresa’s table
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
Earth To Ash 