No permanent home no mobile phone he doesn't need any of that
All that he needs, all that he wants carried in a bag on his back

No hot morning shower to brighten his day just a dip in an icy cold stream
He wanders the byways and small country roads seeking to fufill his dreams

He needs no soft bed under a roof just a grassy bed under the moon
Far does he travel the small country roads, he needs no bus train or tram

He's quite content with the life that he chose, the life of a wandering man
No beer or fine wines will he ever drink, for him cool clean water is fine

His dinner food that nature provides so no worries about earning a wage
His life is an unfinished book, each new day the start of an unwritten page

He's content living this way under the sun and the stars
He knows it will end as for all men it must when he finally writes the last page

There is a forest old as hillsides
tall, majestic, dappled shades
fall on ground beneath the silent
gnarled defenders of the glade.

There they stand in ancient splendour
many souls have passed their way
often used as welcome shelter
from the heat of summers day.

Sweet the air they breathe in chorus
our life's breath their lungs provide,
soaking up our daily poison
so that we may live and thrive.

You seas of men intent to clear them
citing progress, peddling greed
tearing roots from precious mooring
laying waste to nature's seed.

**** the beauty of a landscape
displace creatures for your need
rupture fragile ecosystems
scar the earth and watch it bleed.

To you I ask a simple question,
as I see the land bereaved.
What need has man of all this progress
when he can no longer breathe?

There is a lot I love
About spring and summer,
The warmth, the freedom
From scarves and coats.
The flowers in bloom,
The outdoor pools,
The hot days with ice cream
And cold coffee and slurps.
But most of I all I love the trees in my city,
that sway in the summer wind.
And I can stare at them forever
As my car passes by.
And they are colored not only green
But of many more hues pleasant to my eye.
There are orange, and purple (my favourite ones), and pink.
So when the ground I walk upon
Is littered with these colored petals,
I feel like nature has a lot of beauty to show
But all we do is step on it.

from the rust,red soil,
the nastursiums come.

first as tendrils, spiderlike
then, the little, disc umbrella leaves.

green and expectant,
in the sub-tropical,
late,winter sun.

and soon the riotous ladies,
come with skirts of colours
bold and joyous
resplendent in the party wear

then, they will run and skip
in rampant dance,
over rocks, tree stumps
climbing up the old fence.

with pepper in their tongues
and cheerful smiles.

they are one of summer's, most happy boons...
and soon and soon,
they come,
from the rust red soil
                               they come...

through leafy lines
flow the hallowed sap
capillaries of grandeur
fauna's breath of life

Music Selection:
Quicksilver Messenger Service
Fresh Air

Oakland
8/16/14
jbm

If I was but an beautiful and pure exotic green leaf
I would be tied to an amazing oak tree with a very strong belief
I would be tossed with the breeze of the wind from side to side
and I would try my best and keep myself tied

I have but a wonderful way to frolic
and you would think i'm very much jolly
From season to season I change my appearance
I know I wont die because I have reassurance

Out of nowhere today I was simply wrong
I started falling slowly from the tree to the ground
and I just couldn't believe I went from green to brown
now I have nothing to do but just settle down

Ancient tree, with roots deep down
Standing ground for ages unknown
Gentle giant soaring over undergrowth
Lonely, it stood there as part of history
It’s foliage glistening from fresh showers
Standing there alone without any remorse
The mossy green sheath on the tree trunk
Finding solitary refuge in the calmness
The sleepy rocks beneath, there for company
Lifeless surface comes alive with lichens
Lonely tree, standing there happy, for ages
Spreading its branches and nurturing life