There are days I feel like them
My own head hanging low
Life’s blood slowly ****** aside
But even then I know

Soon the sun will shift away
Returning precious shade
Mists of midnight’s cooling fog
Coming to our aid

Blackbug scurries ‘cross the road
Flees oncoming Giant
First the shadow, then the foot
Blackbug’s song goes quiet.

A rat snake hangs around my house
Over six feet long
He knows the place is his, not mine
Spoils don’t go to the strong


So elegant he slides about
Never says a word
Unlike the one in Eden
That made man his lord

Pays me no attention
Knows I mean no harm
His sense of sensibility
A true snake charmer’s charm

No awkward lunging steps for him
On our bipedal knees
A thousand joints along his spine
Let him move as he please

Never in a hurry
Seeking out the sun
What’s the point of worry
The day will soon be done

I told my friend about him
He asked to come and hold
I said when I see him
You'll be the first who's told

He slithered cross my path today.
Recalling what I said,
I asked the snake what he would say
Then to my friend …I lied

We are Slowly Dying
(A response to Thanatopsis)

We are slowly dying
Myself, and these old pines
A little here, a little there
Almost imperceptibly
Death on her cat’s feet comes

I sit with these old friends,
longing their lost limbs
some already fallen
some just now losing needles
like me, my hair

We sit quietly,
Neither saying much
Neither needing to
All has been said and done
Or need never be

Soon it will be time
Signs are certain now
All point in one direction
We, transition forests
Bow to new emperors

We’ve no need to complain
Of bugs eating their bark
Or bugs eating me
It would do no good
So we sit silently

How to end this tale
Now that it's been told?
Perhaps a sweet rhymed couplet?
Or some old musty moral?

The sunset goes down with us.
No meaning does it give us.

Early morning brought her
Sunlight off the water
Footlights for the forest
Highlighting every leaf

Hours pass before us
Quieting birdsong chorus
Stealing dew from flowers
My mid morning Grief

Nature finds a new design
Repeats it endlessly
Out of utter joy
Like a baby
With a new word

Why do birds exalt in song
At coming of the dawn?
Unlike us, they never know
If it will come again.