Emerging from this makeshift shelter,
I look about at the wicked cold day,
Wondering how long I will survive in this bleak world.

I have tussled with my demons,
Made peace with myself,
And accepted my lot in life.

My ragged clothing, barely covering me,
Warmth only a dream,
Decent food a luxury,
Knowing my family as I am now,
An impossibility.

The shrill jeering of children as I pass by,
The looks from strangers,
Judging me in my degradation.
None realizing that I was once They.

I could justify feeling superior,
When I had a home, a family, a job.
A sense of security and a mind and body unbroken.

And now, watching from the other side,
I wonder why I had so little compassion,
So litte empathy, so little mercy.
Just as They do now.

Sitting there yesterday at the football game,
Watching my son tackling the quarterback,
Feeling the warm sun and watching him earn respect,
From his teammates, made my heart proud.

Looking around, I saw the cheerleaders, 11 yrs old, too.
Yelling and flipping and shouting.
Then from nowhere, "My glitter is sweating off!"
Makes me laugh outloud.  

Little kids running everywhere,
Parents watching their kids, visiting,
It was a great scene!

Until I looked down in this sneezing little boys face,
And watched him scoop up some boogers
and have a snack.

Looking back I suppose it is only to be expected
as part of the scenery, and I can laugh now.
Just as watching the cheerleaders commenting,
And the poor kid who pulled a groin muscle,
Hobble off the field, is part of the scene.

All in all, a beautiful day, fun, family, and reality all at once.

Sitting down by the pond the other evening,
Taking in the sunset and listening to how nature puts her children to bed,
I happened to notice my amphibian friends.

Now, I love sounds, loud ones, soft ones, booming, and whispers.  
Got a right fetish for listening to nature.

As I sat there entranced, my ears started picking out different frog calls.  
You know, them boy frogs trying to sound all handsome and friendly to get a wink from their girlfriends.  
And not just the frogs either, ya know, there's some toads out there too.

I was hearing big ole Bullfrogs, boomin' louder than a drum in a parade.
Tiny spring peepers, with their loud high pitched sharp peeps.

There was Fowler's Toads out there too, sounding like ole Henry stuck a knife in his wife's chest, and she screamed for her life.

Them there grey tree frogs, well they are somethin'.  
Chatterin' like a monkey missin' his bananas.

And don't get me started on those green frogs, boy howdy, they can twang with the best of em.  
Right funny if you don't mind me saying.

But, that trilling those American toads do, out shining those short trillin' Western Chorus frogs evra time, is somethin' else.  
Why they can hold a note pert near a full three minutes.

Never can tell how rich wild life is around ya til ya sit a spell and take a listen.  
You may not see 'em out there, but shore nuf, life's a going on.

Traveling the hollows,
Of this deep, damp, mountain,
Seeking treasure in mother earth,
Placed eons ago in times unknown.

Lanterns shedding light,
Illuminating the dark depths,
Casting elongated shadows,
On the dark tunnelled walls

Soft gold metal woven in tendrils
Through ponderous tons of granite.
Given away by the presence of
Shards of broken quartz,
Shining dully at my feet.

Why is this golden metal so precious?
Why would men give their lives for it?
Indeed, beautiful, rare, mysterious.
But I find myself captured by the reflections,
In these quartz crystals.

Not only quartz, but diamonds,
Emeralds, rubies, sapphires.
Heated and compressed over millenia,
Awaiting discovery in mother earth's,
Deep dark recesses.

Brought to the surface,
Faceted, polished, mounted.
Dazzling, sparkling color,
Eye-catching, elegant, mesmerizing.

Jewels.

Age is slowing my best friend.
His ears no longer catching the faintest hint of rustling in the brush.
His fur not so golden red in the sunshine, fading white.
His legs not so strong, no longer bounding over the land.
His eyes not so sharp now, clouded with age.
His energy not so boundless, tiring easily on short walks.

He has shown me how to love unconditionally, trust effortlessly.

During his life he has shown me love, sorrow, joy, fear, patience.
My best friend, has blessed my life in ways I never knew he could.

I sit listening, patiently recording,
Stories of sorrow, pain, and violence.
People expelling the details of their lives,
Seeking assistance for their cares.

Explaining the past in magnified details,
The Voices torturing their minds,
The Visions disturbing their hearts.
So many unbalanced, unstable people.

Victims to past trauma or mental disease.
Attempting to manage their pain and thoughts,
To find a path through.
To find the answer to improve their lives.

I sit explaining, patiently to each,
We cannot change the course of their lives,
It is up to them.
Only try to give them the tools to cope.
Its a long slow process, never a quick cure.

My reward for each encounter, small though it is,
A smile, a look of relief, a look of hope.
Makes the pain endured, the risks taken,
Worth the effort put forth.

Early morning comes too soon.
Fish are biting by the moon.
Father and son make their way
Out of the house to meet the day.

The men of the house are outward bound
Seeking their fortune on the water sound.
Fishing poles and tackle boxes in hand
Off they go, to the dock to be manned.

Eyes gleaming bright, with the wind in his hair,
My son grins wide, and says, "Dad, Look There!"
Sure enough my son sees, fish to be caught,
Their trip is promising, will not be for naught.

His father smiles at the look from his son,
Saying, "Yes, son, you've found them, quite well done."
Bringing their boat to a stop they let glide,
Unpack their equiment, and come along side.

Taking their time and setting their hooks,
Plenty of fish here, judging by the looks.
There's sunfish and carp, some salmon and trout,
Walleye and crappie, and catfish so stout.

As the sun rises higher, they reel those fish in.
There's plenty of fish, with tail and fin.
The father and son are laughing together.
Can't believe their luck, or such perfect weather.

Returning home from a long day of fun,
They unload their catch and in they run.
Fish stories abound, They can't say enough,
The fish they missed, get bigger and rough.

I watch my two men, with quiet delight.
Enjoying the warmth, they create in my sight
Fishing is fun, fishing is great,
My men bonding, makes my heart elate.

This world is huge.  It's small.  Its infinitesimal and vast.
How did we come by such a beauteous and frightful place.
Out in the cosmos, alone and crowded.
Living our lives in years that are only a blink in time.
What laws of nature bind us?  What freedoms do we possess?
Time rushes by only to stand still.
So many questions.  So many answers.
Which is right?  Which wrong?  Is it only a matter of perception?
Such is the human mind.  Always questioning, contradicting.
Seeking and avoiding.  Creating and destroying.