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Day Hike
in my wildest junk dreams
I climb twinkies and eat mountains
dragonfly dancing to summits
where vistas give up
lakes, blue and crystaline
it is so high up, so far down
deep wooded valleys
spooned by hilltops
covered in hemlocks
red mushrooms and liverwort
slick mud rocks laugh
moss covered cowards
shaded by birch and poplar
lark song and the drone
of locusts and flies
buzz my junk ears
taunt my junk life
eat my junk dreams
Early Morning at Marcy Dam
I'm the first to arise, the cold
air surprises my waking lungs.
I kick at the ashes of last night's fire, look for a hint of warmth.
I find none and set about building a new blaze. A dense fog begins its
ascent off the water, gives way to hoarfrost as I toss
coffee grounds into the pot.
Bright sunlight filters in through poplars, shafts of rising mist curl skyward
and dissipate in its faint warmth.Yellow leaves fall, nudge their fragile
sisters,
free them from weak stems. Together they make their descent to the ground.
The morning is still with its absence of song birds. They saw the coming
cold and headed south days ago. My mind wakens to the sounds of morning.
The silence is punctuated by the flow of water over the dam. I wonder if
the geese I
hear in the distance have flown through the night to pass overhead; a reminder
I too, must be going.
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