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Listen to the trees,
Hear them rustle in the breeze.
They whisper to the wind,
As it bristles all their leaves.
50 shades of green,
Shimmer like a dream,
And the trees give out a clue,
That the wind is passing through.
While somewhere deep inside,
Ghostly figures hide.
Spirits from within the wood
Play with shadows as they should.
The trees see you passing by,
And, with a soothing sigh,
Becalm your beating heart,
And relax your roving eye.
From an early morning walk in the woods.
~
Learning to patch. Learning to mend.
Learning to venture. Learning to comprehend.
Learning to capture and befriend.

Inventing the berry. Inventing the cream.
Inventing sweet slices before bedtime
and the Fragaria colored dream.

Loving new life. Loving each child.
Securing the stem and raising the vine
by loving the wife.

~
High on hope
It's more dangerous than any drug
The natural euphoria
Still gets pulled out from under like a rug
Beware the come down
Depressions clutch can be disguised as a hug
Careful when digging for more
You might realize it's your own grave that you've just dug

©2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                Our Children Will Ask Us What We Did in 2024


                                            Thus was th’ applause they meant,
                           Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame
                           Cast on themselves from thir own mouths.

                                   Milton, Paradise Lost, X.545-547


Have we not learned?

The Zeppelinfield, the Kroll Opera House
The Great Hall of 10,000 People
The Hippodrome, the Piazza Venetia
Red Square, and the Quicken Loans Arena

Weak beings subsumed within one commanding Will
Adoring with glistening eyes and beating hearts
A strident oligarchy of destiny
Chanting obscurities and pumping fists

But when the chanting stops and foul diktats roll –
Will you - will I? - be a defiant soul?
I speak of both dominant political parties and their neo-Nuremberg rallies.
Smell the forest’s breath
Sweet pinesap, hot brush, decay
The mountain’s flesh bleeds
sharp, fine dust; rocks clot the roads
Selfish love wounds its lover
I grew up in the mountains of northern California, playing in the recovering clearcuts.
One day my brain will be nice to itself
Instead of rage I will give it a big hug
I’ll be able to apologize for all the years
of mistreatment and sorrow
I will mean it when I say I’m fine
there are no more layers to peel off
no more mysteries to solve
and no more reasons to worry
My mind will be at peace one day
A mantra for me to keep going
I stand on the banks of yesterday
Watching moments slip away
Like leaves on a river's gentle stream
Lost in the current, a memory's dream

In the depths, I see reflections of you
A fleeting glimpse, a heart that's true
But like the water, you're gone from sight
Leaving me with just a fading light

The river flows, a constant beat
A reminder of time's relentless repeat
Moments lived, moments lost, moments dear
All swept away, leaving only tears

Yet, in the flow, I find a peaceful place
A sense of surrender, a gentle embrace
For in the river's heart, I hear a voice
Whispering wisdom, a heartfelt choice
memories, and longing
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