Old Gray Gertie shades the Indian Creek -
with taut steel arms and wood planks
Cackling birds of every size and shape -
perched high above the root entangled banks
Rock bass skim the turbulent topwater -
for morning snacks
The Old Mill whistles with the ghost -
of the grinding wheel filling flour sacks
Gerties air is sweet ambrosia ,
Wild gardenia and rose , honeysuckle and -
magnolia
Churning rapids mimic the laughter of -
many a child , the alms of Creek fathers ,
the reverence of naked feet in cool waters
Sunshine reveals her gem studded brilliance ,
she's passing throughout the country foothills with southern charm and diligence* ...

The oaks are tethered to the earth -
yet drawn to the light
They're pointing the way to creation -
but we are blind* ..

Parasites begin to die after the -
host is depleted* ....

I've become bored with the -
monotonous world ...
A chili dog and a Pepsi should stir
things up posthaste* ...

Thoughts are warbling
Continuous
Sleep is not an option
Harmony demands recognition
To be scored
Without end* ...

Today I'm the former roadside attraction
Rusting , paint peeling , rat inhabited pig
sty of a man
A birdhouse with halls that echo , waiting -
for the 'horns of Jericho'
Tall , out of control growth blotting out -
my reflection
Wrinkled , weathered cracked infrastructure ,
shaken , sold cheap , melting into the earth -
forgotten , once prospering station* ..

Walking brown hallways of -
February on a moody afternoon
Disregarding material drama , an eye toward
Port Lake , bursting with poetic -
value and quiet companionship
A ruddy featured friend with blue eyes , clothed
in colorful hardwood and evergreen
Placid , olive waters , engaging songsters
A gallery of riverdancers , bottom muddies and
shoreline wonders , a solemn , religious -
vision of the highest order , a plan as no
other ..
Vivacious , musical and needed* ..