A brief smattering of words
To indicate that today was.
Was more than red exclamation points.
Tiresome emails. Running over the same ground.
Writing on the adult chalkboard a trillion times.
Today could be the middle of the week
In the middle of a middling life
Of a man stuck in the middle.
Or today could be appreciated for what it is:
Thank you oxygen that fills my lungs.
Thank you sunrise.
Thank you sweet and tender love that I have known.
I’m alive and well, and the champion of my soul.
We start with the weather on the call.
But I don’t care about weather at all.
Because the wind will blow and the sun will set,
And when it does, I still won’t forget
How you let me take the fall.
Forgiveness is a barrier, forty feet high.
You’re told to scale it, so I try.
Check the emotions and the pride,
But it won’t get you to the other side.
No foot holds here. No cracks to pry.
Time is just a narrow band
Of uneven footing, and shifting sand.
The truth we seek is solid ground.
But then again, it’s just the sound
Of wind lashing this tiny strand.
The drive is to find the birth river.
With an important package to deliver.
Molecules of home and preparation for availing
Of rushing waters that are much less saline.
Fighting currents, ocean monsters and net,
Other obstacles face them yet:
The impoundment, the angler, the hungry bear.
Thousands of miles, yet they arrive there.
To a familiar, straight-run, gravel bed.
This is where instinct has led.
Roe and milt and lives are spent.
Salmon, do you die content?
When the summer’s heat can’t get worse,
I’ll be at the beach, fully immersed.
Swimming free between lake’s surface and bottom.
Troubles? What troubles? I don’t got em’.
But during the winter’s long-winded curse,
You’ll find me with a book, fully immersed.
A curious mind, with much to learn.
Biding my time, til’ spring takes its turn.
Truly full of sound and fury.
Little rest and always hurry.
I Pause. Some hesitation.
Take in a gentle gradation,
Soft vibrations on the air,
Have a different meaning here.
Take a break from combat mode,
Let something older take hold.
Chickadee flits through the air,
Thankfully, not selfaware.
Admiring the armored symmetry
Of an old oak tree.
My worries are an early morning mist.
The sun gets higher, they don’t exist.
This is a moment without thought or time
In this moment I free my mind,
And notice the nuance.
Dear Congressman Bergman,
We have gone way beyond a tipping point with regard to suspected nefarious ties between the Trump administration and the Russian Government. It is of the utmost importance that this matter be reviewed by an independent council as soon as possible, for two primary reasons:
1.) We have no faith in the veracity of Donald Trump. He is frequently dishonest in his communications and presumably in his dealings with the American people. If he was investigated for financial ties to and possible collusion with foreign actors, we aren’t damaging his reputation at this point. If an independent review found nothing, it might actually restore some faith in government (which is currently being shed at precipitous pace).
2.) If the overwhelming amount of “coincidences” surrounding this president with regard to his conflicts and possible collusion do amount to something, by not handing this the proper way, we are truly letting evil triumph.
We need to know that American Democracy is not imperiled. There are millions of Americans that think as I do.
Oh, when we were babies,
Well it was desperate times.
They would cleave
But we clung to the line.
And we’d battle for nearly any crumb.
They’d call us naive, call us dumb.
Still, we fought and wouldn’t succumb
When we were young.
Are they white-washed memories
Of a forgetful mind?
Or were those really