Gossiping ferns tell the tale
While lofts of vines hang their vail
The whispering creek will never show
What the rocks beneath seek to know
Muffled by the trickling stream
The dishearten stones create a scene
Awestruck dew weeps
Bringing silence to every leaf
Past the daisies who shiver-these beauties dread the news they deliver
The morning absent from glory
When darkness descends-no end
Stars wink at trees in lust
"Shhh- hush your branches, it's a must!"
For revelation is not tonight
Despite the dandelions eager flight

There is one way to be sure...

Look within the trunk of a tree
Closely hear the bumble bees plea  
Feel the sensation of a butterflies wings
And embrace the chaos it brings

So when you sense the end is near, look to nature with a listening ear.

A recent discussion about the obsession with Hollywood starling divorces
has got me to wondering if love is still something that anyone ever endorses.

When grocery stores peddle the Hollywood gossip of constant unfaithful behavior,
The Star and the Globe and the National Enquirer all sell like they’re offering salvation.

No wonder its normal when people don't notice the pulse of their marriage has flat-lined.

So when did it start that 'in love' is a prison and the moonlight brings nothing but lonely?
And why is the suffering in silence accepted and all of the torture seem normal?

If the one whom you live with is hit by a bus do you howl at the loss as horrific?
Or is death a fulfillment, reprieve from the anguish of all that you worry eternal?

To be honest with self, I must simply confess that the latter was always my longing,
then longing got lucky while she was out walking,

a bus hit that ***** and kept going.

Always hoping, always dreaming. Alone.
Big sister to her brothers; minded dad.
The little girl so full of love; now grown.

Tomorrows came and yesterdays were gone.
Some days were good; and, God, some days were bad.
Always hoping, always dreaming. Alone.

Said mother to her daughter: “I disown.”
“For you, I know, I never should have had.”
The little girl so full of love; now grown.

This little girl knew not what she had done
Why would her mother utter words so bad?
Always hoping, always dreaming. Alone.

She dreamt the dreams of love she had not known;
Those dreams of being loved by mum she had.
The little girl so full of love; now grown.

A happy picture painted; not in stone.
Illusions all; reality just sad.
Always hoping, always dreaming. Alone.
The little girl so full of love; now grown.

Robert of Callander

Robert of Callander
the time it has come
for you to take flight
but where will you run..
~*~
"Come south" breathes the southern breeze
soft whispers in the trembling trees
"whatever are your deeds and crimes
take refuge in my warmer climes"

The east wind countered with a gust
"my way will save you come you must
bear my cold and feel my blast
and I will hide you till the last"

The west wind from the ocean blew
"come out to me my word is true
and out amongst the rocky isles
I'll hide your guilt and life so vile.."

The Northern Wind did ponder long
then gave it's thoughtful blast of song
"Journey to my mountains dread
your crimes has left so many dead"

"my welcome here of stone and cold
lost soul in my srong hand I'll hold
the time for you to pay is nigh
head north into my hills so high"

And north Black Robert chose to go
with tense remorse and full of woe
up into heather wind and rain
never was he seen again

But on the ***** of steep Ben Loyal
you'll find a hidden rocky mound
to reach it takes some sweat and toil
and there Black Robert may be found