Myself or you
Who to believe?
Our tongues
Entwined
With poetry
The trail’s bare
Just fallen leaves
Our bread it’s stale
And crumbling
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Myself or you
Who to believe?
Our tongues
Entwined
With poetry
The trail’s bare
Just fallen leaves
Our bread it’s stale
And crumbling
The grass is green getting longer
in the summer
there’s a barbecue and I’ve
got this rice paper journal
it’s eternal
like the sun over Nepal.
Now there’s these two little blue birds
singing softly, shadow dancers
on the lawn
I’ve got this quaint little feeling
there’s a reason
for the bull skull on the wall.
A plane flies overhead
a sky of blue, a sea of red
mountaintops and forest bed
remain…
The grass is covered with snowfall
in October
frosted snow caps on the lawn
yet still those two little blue birds
nesting softly
they sing their joyful song.
I lace my boots fill my canteen
need some relief
from the city full of drums
rucksack and trail unwinding
I’m reminded
of my love for everyone.
The rocks and sandstone bend
leaves fall from tree, I comprehend
there is no time still consequence
remains,
I will remain.
broken leaves at sundown
set fire to the trees
drinking from the heavens
of nature’s crystal spring
yellow jacket bumbling
curious honey bees
as blades of grass we tango
bound for eternity