I woke early again today
Got slightly dressed and went outside
Started splitting logs in 90 degree heat
A new habit I've picked up
One of many I've filled my time with lately
Habit or hobby - hard to tell the difference anymore
Split a few quickly and worked some knots the best I could before the heat got the better of me and I needed a break
I set my ax down and grabbed a small hatchet and cut down some overgrown bamboo plants
I cut them down only a few months ago
But life changes drastically in only a shot amount of time
And they grow so quickly
They towered above me by near five feet
And now they're only up to my knee cap
I could hear the shortened stalks whistling in the wind, "we'll be back"
And I carried the debris out into the sun to dry to become kindling for a fire
Sweat soaked from clothes to bone
I grabbed another log and raised the ax above my head and brought it down
Using my strength and the weight of the ax to sever the wood into two pieces, neatly down the center
No knots to work thru on this one
I continue chopping and splitting and working until I'm happy with the size of the wood
And I grab another log and keep chopping and splitting and working
Feeling the sun beating down and the sweat pouring down
My mind clear and thinking only of the task at hand
I listen to the morning birds sing and the crickets chirp
Dogs bark in the distance and my dog looks in their direction as if she can see them thru all the obstructions in her way
I add to the rhythm with the whistle of the ax coming down and the severing of the wood
I feel balanced in nature for those brief moments between the neighborhood waking up
And the memories I'm not remembering
I carry some wood to where it will burn and stock the rest near the back for a later date
I wipe the sweat from my brow and a breath in the hot, humid air
Filling my lungs until they can hold no more
And exhale
I fix myself a drink by twisting off the cap of a beer and feel it cool me from the inside as I drink it down
And take a seat on a lawn chair
Petting my dog on her head the way she likes
And I sit out in the sun, out in the yard,
and close my eyes and imagine the peace around me
That I feel inside

My day gets started early
I am up before the dawn
I do yardwork for a living
I get up to cut the lawn

Each morning brings another
Job that must be done
I've got just so many hours
I'm racing barefoot with the sun

They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow

The trees drop leaves like crazy
An orange carpet all around
I have to mulch their golden cover
I can't just leave it on the ground

I fertilize and aerate
I trim the hedges by the drive
I pull the weeds there in the garden
I help to make your plants survive

They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow

It's not a job for many
In fact it's not a job for most
Each year we hire newbies
And in three weeks most are toast

I wake up every morning
Hit the floor, I'm on the run
This ain't the job for many
But for me, it is the one.

They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow

You'll find me in the garden
pulling up the roots
claiming my boots are the only thing in my life that's grounded
because 7 months ago when you were wasted
blowing smoke out your lungs
telling me you loved me, that that was enough
I should've started running because you hated cigarettes
and you've never been one to believe that love is enough
I thought I was enough
You thought I was tough but I'm as timid as my Sunday school heart
I thought you were a brilliant piece of artwork lover

Lover, I made you a time machine
out of paper mache and paper mached my heart
and handed it to you with my full regards
You're sick of the yardwork I wanna do
I'm sick of picking up your muddy boots but I'd still
shoot myself to the moon as long as you'd follow right behind me
Maybe we should just take up drinking so you can love me
full time instead of the part of time you actually do
and I knew you were a natural disaster the first time I laid my eyes on you
in the back of the bar
ripping me apart like a city
and leaving the crowd to pick up the pieces of my heart
I wish you still loved me when you were sober
because when you're wasted I can taste it
the fallacy in your throat
the lips that feel undone
and you
and how we used to be so right
and how now it's all so wrong

I'VE SEEN THE MOON BEFORE

i was out in the backyard
finishing late season yardwork
it was clear and crisp, aptly cold
i looked up as i was finishing
to see the moon, high in the sky
white glistening, giving a glow

i've seen the moon before
but couldn't take my eyes off it
wife called me in for supper
we talked casual, usual small talk
i helped her clean up the dishes

we went to bed, before we did
i asked her to look outside to see
what i had seen, she did as i asked
wasn't it amazing?.. we made love
falling asleep in each others arms

i woke up some time in early morning
it was freezing, i closed the window
before i did, i looked to see the moon
shining so bright, so close almost to touch it
i got back into bed, she had rolled away from me

i laid there with my eyes wide open
thinking there are many things to be counted on
life death, a sensible spouse, a house over my head
was it enough or could there be more to this as the
loneliness i felt settled in the sheets between us

by Michael Perry

What is love,
it is everything...

The good and the bad,
sharing, learning, comforting,
no sides, no boundaries,
understanding,
even if you don't,
arms open...wide,
mind open...wider,
heart always accepting that
not everything is easy,
the bed of roses comes with thorns,
but you endure,
scars will show,
yet are considered beautiful,
skinned knees, bike rides,
mis-spoken words, well meaning
badly timed, hurt feelings,
chocolate covered sundaes,
picnics in the park, yardwork,
lost keys, little lies, surprise parties,
(when you specifically said no,)
breakfast in bed, arguments,
making love, making the bed afterward,
bad movies, dead cell phone batteries,
***** dishes, headaches,
eye rolls, laughter, hugs,
poetry,
being far, being close,
sweet kisses, feeling wanted,
nothing is ever too much,
tough decisions, agreed upon outcomes,
looked forward to moments,
tears, smiles, big smiles, bigger smiles,
holding hands, support,
truth, long days,
passionate nights,
taking chances,
dreaming,
rainy mornings,
bad moods, good moods,
really good moods,
candlelit dinners,
promised forevers,
(meant)
hot coffee, chilled wine,
warm affection and
brain freezes...

What is love...it is everything,
if it is you and me

You demand that we stop waving our arms about
While talking or whenever I do the 3-legged downward dog
That reminds you of being abused in another life
I know you recognize the delivery man as the abuser
Who you bark at fiercely, relentlessly
Just as you always growl jealously at Hazel, our neighbor's dog,
Despite her best efforts to be your friend
I see the wolf in your eyes when you're stalking lizards
Running, unleashed, leaping impressively from a standstill
Unsupervised in what substitutes poorly for wilder places
In our Florida backyard
You stare accusingly whenever I talk on the phone
Demanding to be heard, too
You hear and smell things I cannot imagine
Long before they reach my ordinary ears and nose
I see you cannot stop digging that hole
Next to the patio in my wild grasses garden
You eat the finest organic dog food
But prefer something dead on the path
During your afternoon jog to the beach
With Bill, so dismayed, that you enjoy smelly rolling
Though you endure your punishment, a scrubbing in the shower
Just to cuddle with Bill on the couch all clean and loved
I command you to COME HERE when doing yardwork
Ignoring me, you trot off towards Federal Highway
Or slip through the hedge when I’m weeding-you're a wily one
Hoping for wolf adventures like the ones in your dreams
Those that turn scary, maybe you get pounced on
When you're making terrifying yelping sounds
And trembling uncontrollably
Waking us all up, leaping up on the bed
Scooching to a safe haven between us
Beseeching, "Hold me, squeeze me, say it's OK for me to be here!"
Hugging you Bill says, "It's OK, there there, he's a good doggie."

I remember screamed profanities
I remember slammed doors and cupboards
I remember walking on eggshells, slipping silently around the house, not flushing the toilet - hoping to remain unnoticed.
I remember strained car rides and feigned happiness - for the relatives' sake.
I remember the blessed gift of headphones - that drowned out the rage and replaced it with joyful music.

I remember hiding behind schoolwork
I remember 5:00 AM Saturdays, doing yardwork, to keep the peace.
I remember racing through dinners, eyes down
Being done before being done

I remember strained birthdays
Unappreciated gifts
Forced gratitude

I remember graduating
Boarding a plane
And never really going back.

monsters sleep in my house.

there's a few in the kitchen,
three in my bedroom,
countless on the living room couch...
a very ugly, menacing one on the floor
where the coffee table should be
but was pushed aside.

they stand behind me when i wash my hands in the kitchen sink
pressed against my back.

while i withdraw water from the open fridge
they push my face against the freezer door.

one monster's favorite place:
in my chair, my father doing yardwork out my bedroom window.
the monster told me later how much he wanted to throw me against a wall
how he loved the tension of those moments.

i can't even begin to fathom the monsters in winton apartments.
so many that skulk and tempt me with matchsticks and lighters and sharp nail files
while the real monster lies behind his screens.

monsters sleep in my house.

at least three years old, yes.
but even now i am not used to their presence.