28 November 2012

Poetry

There should be photographs and visual feasting to satisfy you.

There is none.

I have been running in vibram five fingers lately. They look funny, but I bought them around three years ago without using them until now. It feels good to run in them. I thought everything would be sorer as a result, but no. Running up hills is definitely easier too. I suppose the whole style mellows and you have to watch for pointy things as it is only a thin membrane covering the foot, but no speed has been sacrificed yet.

I am loving riding everywhere and getting to the lake a few times a week. It is so quick to get to work on my bike. I am going to get a rack put on the back soon for shopping and things.

Today's storm was not quite as exciting as I had hoped for. Afternoon showers and very sporadic thunder. I was looking forward to playing my flute with the thunder. I did play flute for an hour anyway at sunset. Then I did some writing.

Events, rest assured, occured one after the other.

The proper order of things was maintained.

*

The earth
is old, old, old;
And young,
as only
tomorrow's dream can be.

If you want a song of hope,
come with me to evening
And I will wind
the promises of the day
onto the spool of infinity
in threads of gold.

At sunset,
setting sun
sets to quivering salute
every blade
in every glade
of green.

In the song of every wing
I taste the rain of the afternoon.

My eyes set the pillars of the temple to shaking.

The trees are the mast of evening and into the leaves I have breathed sails.

If you want to talk of beauty,
then I'm your man,
your partner
and your biggest fan.


No comments: