Pants

Looking back
and looking forward
are starting to look the same
peeking aroung a corner
focusing on a distant flame

As we remain under siege
by a whole host of temptations
that turn the best intentions
into idle contemplations

Rusty hinges and broken wings
make it difficult to acheive some things
and becoming what we’re meant to be
is a lonely voyage on a stormy sea.

We only fail
if we cease to try
the struggle its own
reason why

Every day gives another chance
Each day gives another choice
so hitch up your grown-up pants
hold your head up and rejoice

Noise

My joyful noise may sometimes sound
like the bellow of a wounded bull
or maybe like your grandpa
when you give his finger a pull.
Rarely like a heavenly choir,
but you can rest assured
I’m joyful to make any noise at all
after things I have endured.

I Miss My Forest Sometimes

I don’t know what happened
but I miss my forest sometimes
a breeze rustling my leaves
birds nesting and singing
I miss my bark

Don’t know where
they all went
leaving me here alone

It’s a good place
to stand, much to see
and contemplate, but
I miss my forest sometimes
I guess it’s my nature

To stick out like a sore
thumb was not my intention
I did nothing
but hold my ground
I miss my bark, and birds,
leaves and even insects.
I miss my forest

Sometimes, but here
I am, dammit, and here
I’ll stay until a higher power
blows me away

Trips

Five dozen or so
trips around the sun
thought I’d know by now
that I’d learn when to run
or that it’s wiser not
to have too much fun
but at least I clean up
the mess when I’m done

Some think I look angry
others say amused
it’s just the sadness of one
without much left to lose
who’s learned that blue
comes in infinite hues
who doesn’t have many
tools left to use

When current circumstances
are getting me down
I think about all
of those trips around
and remember that if
I keep my feet on the ground
what seems lost now
might again be found

Peculiar Fun

You can gaze at the horizon
wonder which way to go
you can focus your eyes on
the dirt between your toes
you might not have enough time
to do all you need to do
you might just be drifting
enjoying the view

Be careful
how you act
you can’t take everything back
not every thing you do
can be undone
living this life
is peculiar fun

Freedom feels good for a while
but it has its pros and cons
you might want someone to talk to
someone to keep you warm
every good thing has its price
a price you’ll gladly pay
don’t wait for tomorrow
if you have the price today

You may have no one to answer to
except the Lord above
or there may be one or two
people that you love
someday someone will ask you
about the things you’ve done
they probably won’t want to hear
it was just peculiar fun

Be careful
how you act
you can’t take everything back
not everything you do
can be undone

Tributaries

It’s hard to tell by looking
just what’s bothering who
but something bothers everybody
that’s just what things do

So behind every face that you see
are struggles you can’t know
behind every glance you meet
are unknown joys and sorrows

everybody has a story to tell
that’s the way the story goes
follow the stream of your dreams
see where your story flows

when enough streams run together
then a river is born
when enough struggle together
a victory can be won

Irrational

Looking at both sides
of the coin and the
little lines on the edge
pros and cons
of different views
make it hard to give a pledge

The world shrinks
the world grows
hard to predict
the ebb and the flow

Depression seems a rational
response to endless difficulties
but surrender is not an option
when we are blessed to see
hopeless underdogs prevail
 some scoffing at misfortune
so many helping each other
you can’t tell who lost or won

Love and faith are not rational
nor hope for a better day
still we know the sun is out there
above the skies of gray

So sheltering in place
may not be the wisest
thing to do,
going through something
suggests movement
and somewhere else
to get to.

Hard as it can be to open the door
and do what needs to be done
as long as we can draw a breath
it’s still our race to run