Sometimes I sit
on this mountain
avoiding my reflection,
until my mind becomes
a mirror of memories,
I am close enough to
the sun to call her a friend.
Mixed emotions swirl
in the night sky as they
always have done,
at times the stars look sad
like distant cities and the
moon with its many faces
so desperately wanting
to be loved. I will stay here
until the angry wind blows
away these heavy clouds,
and my beard has grown
long and grey, I will walk
down this mountain wild eyed!
enlightened, insane!
like a bible story
like a wounded animal
washed clean - free of all sin,
ready to congregate again
in the warm embrace of
simple poetry …
Clay.M

I don't need
friendship
endless drama
love or laughter
I listen to the
spontaneity
of the wind
I study the
poetry of
dead trees
I begin to
understand
the adventure
of wild birds ...
Clay.M