Rainsong

The evening brings the sounds of night;
The chirping of the cricket,
A hum of tiny wings in flight,
And owls down in the thicket.
And coming from the fields beyond,
Just on the edge of hearing,
The songs of frogs down in the pond
That say the rain is nearing.

The cricket chirps unceasingly,
Indifferent to the song,
For rain is just a memory.
The draught has been so long.
An owl begins a mating call.
The bats remain in flight.
And creeping things continue all
Their business in the night.

Then flickers in the distant sky
Reveal a cloudy wall.
The world will see that frogs don't lie,
As rain begins to fall.

Sleep Dreams

He'd conquer the dragon and vanquish the foe.
Sometimes it was tough, but he always did so.
He'd win the fair heart of the girl in distress,
And all of the townfolk he'd always impress.

She dreamed of a man on a faraway shore.
A loving relation to live and explore.
She'd rest in his arms, and bask in his love,
Until they both flew on the wings of a dove.

Repelling attacks from his fort in the trees,
From his point of vantage, a victory with ease.

To dance on the stage with a ballerina's grace,
Unseen in the darkness, a smile on her face.

But sleep interrupts and our dreams are then gone.
It fills our subconscious with dreams of it's own.

Symbol

I watched them when I was a child,
Their hearts under their hand.
I saw them crying as they smiled,
But I didn't understand.

They chanted words that made no sense,
But still I chanted too.
Though worlds apart, there was no fence.
One common bond they knew.

With fingers feeling racing pulse,
And chill bumps on their skin,
Their fear of the adversary dulls.
They'll die for friend and kin.

As it's been said with much regret,
"I've just one life to give",
Those patriots I'll not forget
As long as I may live.

That flapping rag before my eyes
Now means much more to me.
This man will fight until he dies
To keep that symbol free.

Scratches

I walked the same pathway almost every day,
And passed the same dead Hickory tree.
It's cover of bark had all rotted away.
The trunk was as smooth as could be.
The tree had more scratches than all in the valley,
Being wrought by a squirrel's little claws.
It seemed to be counting, likes marks on a tally,
The passage of so many paws.

I passed it in summer, and on into fall,
And swiftly the winter drew near.
These traces of life on a dead wooden wall
Had somehow become something dear.
Then one day I realized, while there in the park
The shadow of life will soon fail.
It turns in a circle with decreasing arc.
What's left is a tuft by the trail.

Intentions

In our hearts we have intentions
Much too sacred to behold.
We overflow with wise inventions,
Most of which will not unfold.

Actions that our minds design
May never come to fruition.
Within our souls we will incline,
But not complete the mission.

In our thoughts we form a purpose,
The final outcome, not for certain.
What we create, a Magnum Opus
May end before the final curtain.

A man may set a grand objective,
Defend it to the very last.
The plan may soon become defective
The moment the interest is past.

Uncognizance

As children grow up,
And as we grow old,
Our life will soon be left behind.
We fill up our cup
With all it will hold:
A poison that's numbing the mind.
Like robots, not men,
We breathe repetition.
Look at the time! Where did it go?
How long has it been;
This trance-like condition?
It's crept upon us very slow.
One day we will stop
And ponder enjoyments,
And maybe, they've been worth the cost.
The pulse rate will drop
In those final moments,
Then we will forget what we've lost.

Flowers and Weeds

A garden of flowers
Infested by weeds;
Their tender has now grown too old.
The green slender towers
Have scattered their seeds
And threaten to take back their hold.

The passing of spring,
The coming of showers;
The fate of the garden is sealed.
But summer will bring
A place for new flowers
Out there on the grave in the field.