Green
They say the earth is blue
To me it is green
I love green
in all of its bold and subtle shades such as
Chartreuse
Emerald
Lime
Aquamarine
Teal
Bottle
Glaucous
Asparagus
Olive
Celadon
Jade
Malachite
Sage
Forest
Spring
Viridian
Persian
Tea
Jungle
Ah, yes. I love Green!
The Great Cloud
The Great Cloud held
Space and time
The Great Cloud was not only vast
It was pervasive
The Great Cloud was also
Laden with life
Never more and never less
Neither created nor destroyed
Continuously bursting
Spewing forth
Drops of life
The drops of life were
Meant to exist briefly
Beginning and end
Moments to shine
Moments to flicker
Moments to expire
These drops of life plunge
From The Great Cloud
To the Earth
Kissing its surface
Playing out their lives
Glowing with vitality
The drops of life descend
En masse in a never ending
Cascade of purposeful process
Reaching for their space to be
To express their lives
The drops of life plummet
As a collective
But once on Earth
They prevail as individuals
Some extinguish and evaporate
Instantly
Many others carry on for a
Long while
Some drops of life live
Their lives in water
Others on land
Some nourish plants and
Animals
Others add to the seas
Some make mud
Others shape beautiful pools
Together the drops of life bestow
Action and composition
To the Earth
They sustain meaning and
A means for existence
To look back upon
Itself
Over time
The intention of each
Drop of life is
Completed
The Sun and the Earth
Let each drop know
When its manifestation is
Fulfilled
The drops of life become
Vapor
They rise to rejoin
The Great Cloud
Home again in the
Bosom of all that is
Needed
In preparation for
The next journey to
The earth
To begin anew
The Green Dome
It starts as buds
Reddish ones
Together blending
Into a blush
Some rain
Some sun
Climbing temperatures
Convert the red
To green
The freshest and most
Succulent green
Short maples and
Beeches
Begin to form the
Dome’s walls
In time the
Oaks
Always late to the
Party
Fill in the
Canopy
For the next
Five months
We will live
Under the
Green Dome
Protected
Shaded
Its grandeur and
Beauty
Still awes
After nearly
Two Hundred
Years
On this little
Patch of
Land on
The edge of the
Woods
New Year’s Eve
He was thirteen years old
awaiting the clock
to strike midnight
on New year’s Eve 1966
As the time approached
for 1967 to begin
he wanted to look out
of his bedroom window
into the still, dark, and cold
winter night
What might happen
at the moment
when the year shifted?
Might there be a sign
of some sort?
Maybe something to sense
or detect?
He looked closely
anticipating
When 1966 yielded
to 1967 the boy
saw, heard, and felt nothing.
The world remained
the same
The stillness, darkness,
and coldness was unmoved
The start of new year was
anticlimactic
Nature cared not for the
human construct of time
The world exists as it does
whether it is observed
or not
What humans mark as important
matters not to the
external world
We are we
and it is it
So he went to bed
unimpressed, but wiser
The world of man may
enthrall
yet it is of minor importance
when contrasted with
the world
as it really is
Dureé
Henri Bergson said that
“time is not space.”
Space we can quantify
True time is not quantified
Yes, there are
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, etc.
But true time is dureé
A moment is but
An instant
An occasion of awareness
Moments are not measured
Moments are felt
They are experienced
Together moments comprise
A life
Dureé is pure temporality
Sheer occurrence
Not sliced and diced
by units of measurement
Dureé is the
lived flow of consciousness
A Conversation
They sat at a small table
In a far corner of the coffee shop
“I’m bored with my marriage,” he said
His friend listened quietly
“I know I should be content with all
Of the good things.”
“And I do still love her.”
“I think I always will.”
“But I don’t know
What it is like to be
Truly free.”
“I’ve never in all of my life
Been in a situation where
I can just pick up and go
Wherever and whenever I want to.”
“From the time I was a child
There have always been constraints.”
“I’m afraid that I now feel
Like my wife has become another one.”
“So, what is missing?” asked the friend
“My sense of autonomy,” he said
“The ability to make decisions without compromise.”
“I don’t know how to feel strong.
How to truly stand on my own.”
“Okay,” said the friend
“But I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?” asked the friend
“Scared of being alone. Scared of not sleeping.
Lying in the dark of the night.
All alone.”
“Pacing the house with no one
To talk to.”
“And I still love her.”
They looked at each other.
Quietly.
There was nothing more to be said
At that moment
Clean Fill Wanted
Homemade signs nailed to trees
Where they are visible to passing vehicles
Landowners pleading for clean fill
To backfill and to replace the unsightly
And weak hollows of their properties
The requested material must be free of contaminants
No hazardous or man-made waste materials
Just simple soil, gravel, or sand
The basic substance of the earth
Being repurposed to smooth out and to reinforce
The land which had been disturbed
In our need for development and transformation
Our desire to shape and to polish
The earth as we found it
But which we found lacking and incomplete
And in need of our interventions to add value
To add practicality and to fulfill our vision
Of aesthetics and a proper sense of place
We landscape to mindscape
To leave our imprints on the once
Virgin earth
Now new and improved
Another Mundane Moment
Another mundane moment
Like the hundreds before
And the hundreds after
Which together comprise my day
These humdrum instants
These unremarkable seconds
Alight without fanfare or flourish
Exist without much consideration
Punctuating an otherwise ordinary day
But today I will welcome the commonplace
I will rejoice in these streaming ticks of time
Today they are not dismissed as inconsequential
As tedious and uninteresting occasions
Rather I will see them for what they are
Precious episodes of reality…my reality
Influenced by my past
Predictors of my future
Attempts at randomized order
Fueled by my breaths
One after the other after another
Objects of my fleeting attention
And if I choose, my adoration
My life still clings to a routine eminence
Buttressed by an endless flow
Of mundane moments
Craving
To want something so bad it hurts
In a desperate attempt to achieve perceived happiness
We latch onto fantasies
Involving people and things
That if we had in our grasp
We think
Could bring us that special something that is missing
From our incomplete and unsatisfied lives
Instead of being grateful for what we have
We cling to illusions of what is better
And so often what we lust for is not attainable
It is so far out of reach as to be inconceivable
Why bother, we ask ourselves
Because we want it, damn it
We want it badly
That’s all there is to it
And we suffer as a result of our cravings
To yearn for the unreachable
Leaves us discontented and unhappy
Better to have simple and minimal tastes
To not expect more from this life what is easily available
Then we will be happy
Or so we tell ourselves
I Love It When
My favorite room is warm and inviting
The rhythm of Nature is viscerally experienced
Knowing that all of my family members are well
There is just the right amount of order in my world
The sun’s rays are the angle saying winter is ending
A picture captures that perfect sense of place
There is time alone to think, reflect, and feel
Enjoying the first sip of a great beer
She is happy
I feel another’s love
I get it
I am at peace
