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Charles Brannick Aug 2016
And it came to pass
in a foggy clime by the North Coast sea
far from city lights
a man became a tree.

And the seeds of life fell on good ground
and in a thoughtful way took hold
and in this sea salt air
breathed a clearer vision.

This would be no beach blanket vision
or pina colada trade wind tanning oil dream
It would be a dream of driftwood and broken shells
that once had life, where sand pipers and gulls
feed and peck away at what the tide brings in

Nightlife and nightclubs, parking spaces were memories
gaining rust on backboards and rims that sent missed shots
rebounding off into some other court and game

His daily devotion would be the ground he was planted in
and the filtered sun beaming passages of hope and inspiration

It was the simple dog walk routines of life
and pleasures found in a backyard with ball and stick
that caused his heart to bounce

Guided by the filtered sun his path was green and light
until he found himself tall and stout
as well as any of the fine trees around him

Cedar cowboys, Redwood indians, Pine tree pilgrims and pioneers,
transplants and strays in need of space and time
and unfettered vision

All because the Lord sought us out and grafted us in like new sprigs
that take hold and prosper like the blue figs of summer
and the sweet sugar pines with ends better than their beginnings

It didn't matter fog or sun all the same to him he strengthened

And after many days the bread cast upon the waters returned
in a dream where where you planted your heart
was what that mattered .

©  charlie brannick  2016
Charles Brannick Aug 2016
I hurt
like a kid playing in the dirt
calling after a friend who had to leave
You have to pet your heart
softly back to health
sing to it softly
losing the tune
till the song comes back
Pruning the dry leaves
trimming the dying non vital parts,
A fortunate **** does better in the sun
pamper yourself with healthy thoughts
till health returns
till new rains come
sending confidence
down to the roots
back into the currents of life
and strength returns.
Charles Brannick Jul 2016
Where you live
I'll be the quiet street
where you exit and retreat
the neighbor
who by name you greet
On a cold damp winter's day
to be in the blast of furnace heat,
Your thirty year roof in the rain
to keep you dry from above,
the dirt that gets on your hands and knees
from an afternoon's work in the garden that you love.
The air that gets down deep in your lungs
after a long walk on a country lane,
A part of what brings you joy
and never causes pain,
The warm sand beneath your soles
and between your toes
And always in my heart
wherever it is you go.
Charles Brannick Jul 2016
Be the steady character
in this slow drama
grounded in those natural elements
time, weather, seasons
purposeful flesh and blood
that runs its course
wanting from some wishing stone
one star to follow.
Charles Brannick Jul 2016
The music has ceased
stirs remain from the dreamland
a sleepy voice asks what time ?
and looks for it's shoes

I had been inhaling words
in small sips for some time
and with a large exhale
a school of small fish
are returned to the wild

I always return
young and unbeaten
first sun
fresh snow on the mountain

I am the river
and this is my song.
Charles Brannick Jul 2016
Early before day  break
before the jewels of morning sparkle
our love is there
It visits and travels
like the foreign ships that come and go
the men unload her cargo, and the fishing boats
will go out to sea for their catch
Our love is a trail we follow with vistas
where we write new chapters
Our love is the pretty colors of the orange marigold
and purple of a careless summer garden
Our love is a family of  birds chirping
and in the pleasing sound of footsteps on gravel paths
Our love is heavy and it bends the ends of old oak boughs
it is in the tips of branches reaching as far as they can go
Our love is in the different dreams passing
only a few of which we share
So much of love my heart cannot contain
it is all the beautiful dreams of all the people
and in all the great songs
on this street alone there is at least 15 I do not know
A bird I know flies away,
I want to tell it something
but it flies away before I can
this too is a form our love takes
A tear forms in my eye
whether it is from  cold or love
I cannot tell
I want to go somewhere
I forget where or why
I follow the scent
of the baker baking fresh morning bread
Our love has many forms .
Charles Brannick Jul 2016
Listen to the wind
where the river bends
get out of the boat there
this is where your life begins

Step bold in that direction
start your fire here
tomorrow plant your corn over there
everything true and in a row

You've already changed your world
now golden fields will grow.
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