Muralists at China Bridge had nothing on us and our out-stallation on a blue-washed . Bank See!? No protest here. We made a great day of play. Hiking the back road to the Spillway. Clamboring boulders and scree. Breathing Wind and waves. Solitude. Sun. Photography. Miles of beach. One sailboat, one kayak, a few campers. Romping, talking, Rock chipping, rock skipping. Sand drawing, Claiming driftwood treasure, leaves, gull feathers, and marveling a two-inch baby lizard. Yay for today!
The song works. My Angel shared it with me. If she knew I was posting this she would say, “Now say three nice things about your school day.” Okay. 1. Two hundred donated sketchbooks. 2. Community people outside of my Community who genuinely care about kids and teachers. 3. Kids. Oh, and…Filing some piles of newly planned Curriculum. I am a piler. What can I say?
Wide awake and not by choice
Lost and Found
will soon find voice
Tomorrow morning
In dialing KPCW
barking high pitched peppermint
Girradelli
and dogs gone missing
to July 4th
In spite of State and County firework bans
America will have had her way
Going one way and then another
fightened dogs at large
Rammed fences
dispersed by yappy rapid fire
Come canines chased by Black Cats
Escape like bottlerockets
I rub my eyes of crusty double cherry
piecrust
Red glare and hedonistic nationalism
No chance they’re blasting avalanches?
No. It’s 90 degrees, baby
I’m wringing bed sheets with
discursive mind and bleeding empathy
for me and Fido.
The howling will certainly keep us up all night
There’s no refrain
the sullen moan drones on
like dial tone twisted in tangled phone cord
It’s the neighbor’s hound dog,
Loose and chasing shadows
Bombs bursting like Roman candles
and tomatoes
an extra excited Bruiser dog
at the farm
tention testing a steel towchain
The hound is in the haybarn
Then back to our place
My puppy’s in the backyard’s going wild
The hound is back and forth
like an inkjet printer
Under the coveted cover of night games
No use for such abuse under my bedroom window
He must be caught and taken home
Just don’t know the neighbor’s name
Or number to complain
My Kelpie’s going nuts
He needs a class in mindfulness for canines
Or chewy sweet mesquite treats to get attention
I’d settle for him coming to his name
I’d love a cup of calm and chamomile
The structured bed routine is ruined
For puppy’s fused mindset
He’s running circles in his head
and in his doggy bed
And cutting claws and teeth
on all the round abouts he’s making
of the kennel
Cutting calves and herding sheep
he might have dreamt about
any other night
I sigh and long to REM in soft coo bed sheets
But through the steel wool screen
I hear the shape of things devolving
a pink shag pillow strewn in putrid pieces
with just cut clippings
a dirty dew sets in
What will I tell my college daughter?
I took the pillow from her empty bedroom
she never seemed to like or use it.
I think…I’m Sorry, but
In half an hour none of this will matter
I drive and find the house
Lit up like fireworks
A guy comes out and I inquire
Appologies
The neighbor follows close behind
in his old truck
The garage door rolls a sleepy smile
and in the time it takes to set the brake
and get out
The hound has reappeared and jumped into
the truck bedn and they’re gone
to after glow and tail lights
giving proof to the night
of things lost and found
(Photo found on Google Images. Swaner Nature Preserve, Summit County, Utah)
Thank you
for sky
for cloud
for current bush
for buzzing bee
for hiving systems recipe for happy
yellow energy
Thank you
for sun
for trees
for redwing black bird’s
call for keeping
me at bay
in perimeters of color
Thank you
for boardwalks slow walk
living waters
nipping toe-dip footbridge
for pussy willows gesture
for stalwart cattails
fluffy grassy pillows
for bedding mule deer
May all the two-legs and large ears
Hear well these prayers
for you and you and you
and may we ably pay to keep these spaces
open, safe, and more than simply on display
but cherished
wrapping all our children in wisdom and beauty
for grazing sand hill cranes
for fox and timid cottontails
and keep away the strange and wild
motorists
who come in tarry clouds of never ending
climbs and S- curves
slave ways East to West, a hundred yards abreast,
a million miles in all directions
ghastly assailants raging on
racing
and trying to pass even their own reflections on the window panes
Ha! Ha!
But I am quite content
to pause here in the stillness
for fixing and holding gaze across the great unknown
somehow I know I’ve chosen wisely
in gracing sane and sacred space
a world away and closer to divinity
Praise God!
for wise and fertile Earth
and all Her loving
Mothers
 | Deb Farris on Canvas at the Cove |
 | hrobertson2013 on Waking to Summer |
 | Juan Rodriguez on Turn turn turn |
| hrobertson2013 on My father….he loved… |
| Juan Rodriguez on My father….he loved… |
