Throwing Rocks

I threw a rock at the moon
It will hit sometime Thursday afternoon
Just a small rock
It probably won’t hurt anyone up there
but I just had to do it.
I just had to tell it
I just had to let it know
That I like it better full and bright
shining down on me
Is it only me.
You see, the moon threatened to turn off last night
pull the plug, take a break, draw the shades, hide in the shadows
I couldn’t just stand there
and watch it turn that shade of red then black
I had to let it know
Surely there were others
that were throwing rocks at the moon last night..

DSS

Improper Order

Why do I hesitate?
putting words in the improper order
syllables uncounted
spelling uncorrected
dreaming of the moon the clouds the good the wonder
daring to say it
the beauty of the mind set free

DSS

Orbital Parameters

Every few years I take a break like this. My yearnings begin by noticing that the Sun is rising closer and closer to the east each morning. Or I realize that it is setting more squarely to the west. We humans tend to do things in straight lines and squarely you know. Our city streets and blocks are sectioned neatly east to west and north to south. Everything gets lined up neatly in a row. Our homes, our parking lots, our crops, flags, soldiers and grave stones. We like this, I think we need this order. Scatter a dozen marbles or pop cans and it won’t be long before someone will come along and line them up in a neat little row. Everything in order, everything neatly aligned, we must have it, this symmetry.

Is there any wonder why we should take notice when the Earth, our Mother Earth , aligns correctly with the Sun? Of course. Equal darkness and light, the Sun perfectly east and west, shining squarely down our streets and casting perfectly aligned shadows from our buildings, trees, and Washington Monuments, everything is in order. This order from chaos.

Autumn’s equinox, please notice it.

DSS

Mass of Mind

What music, what drum beat
does this man walk to
What music, what drum beat
is in his head when he wins
What strum of the strings
inspires him to try
to take the chance
to win or lose
to stand up to an other’s tune
What’s inside his head
what ringing in the ears
drives this man
whose voice, whose tin notes
inspires him to not pause
but to win the fight.
What is inside this man
not muscle or bone or blood
but what is it he hears
in his head
this man’s mass of mind.
What music, what drum beat
does this man walk to?

DSS

The Flower

The flower
the bloom
Nature’s unsung nude
Sexually exposed
unashamed full frontal exhibition
clothed only in bright colors decided by genetic success
and Lace made of thin delicate pedals
perfumed by nature’s own exotic extracts
Standing erect, silently shouting
Asking to be passionately caressed by the wind
Dependent on the unquestioned love and entrance of the enamored bees.

DSS

Night Flight

Steering east with the North Star in the corner of my eye
The engine drone and gyro whine keeps me awake.
Kept aloft without missing one of a million sparks
And trusting that the liquid energy will quickly heat and burn.
The red glow of the panel, mostly unnoticed, as my eyes scan forward
Wondering which space I could land on, the light or the dark.
Of lights with no reflections, unseen by me, I continue on
Only the light of the full moon is brightly shining on me.

The cooling night air grows smooth, no tug or push of speed is found here.
I’m alive in this space, hanging free with no sense of height or motion
Only the leak of air reminding me that the ocean I float in is but vapor.
The beacon of green and white that I search for is real and may be seen
But I trust a glowing needle’s left or right of my coarse as true and real.
I cannot pause to ponder this for only by moving forward can I stay here.
I have no one here to share this for I am alone.
And I will not reach my home until the moon is behind me.

DSS

Season’s Story

Every Season has a story
Yet to come or long ago
New love born on first meeting
But farewells said at Summer’s end.

Fall’s love meets on chilly evenings
Warm embraces under woolen wraps
Warm feelings from tender hands,
Finger’s touch and soft caress

Short days for Winter’s lovers
Time too brief and none to waste
Cold red noses from sharp breezes
Warm lips meet for their first kiss

Fresh new love of Spring’s beginning
Life bursts from seeds and leaves
April rains melt cold feelings
Love so strong will never end

DSS

The Minuscule Now

The aching of the muscles
the aching of the bones
Nothing to the aching of the mind.
The doubt and fears
the forgotten and misplaced.
Piecing together the day
a few moments at a time.
Never grasping the entirety
of the hours or the fullness of the faces.
No time for knowing or seeming to care.
Living only in the now,
The minuscule now,
no past, no future
living in the instant.
As sand slipping through fingers
not knowing from where it comes
or to where it goes.

DSS