Turn turn turn

Sometimes

I  want to tell you

My world was so much better with you in it

Thank you

I reach to take the rake from phantom hands

I think I feel your touch

your understanding

I am mistaken

instead the slivery handle falls along the S-curve of an aching back

 

To gather leaves was once a joyous cause for keeping

to gather them together there

a sunny morning blush for smile making

for seeking hugs and laughter

not like this yellow oozing puss laid resin

and soaking headlines in the gutter

an acrid heap of pasty hubris

Ill gotten leaves and trees

and wisdom lost in spoken foolery

I dry my tears with twice used coffee napkins

the leaves fly on above the caffeine steam and swizzle

some curl like once used post-its

There in the drizzle, they don’t stack up

again again

the edges all uneven hedged and reeling

no matter how they try they fail

for feeling sorries old adhesives just won’t stick

 

I drop a rusty rake

it skips a broken zipper railway on my bare shin

I grip a fleecy collar closer to my neck and chin

you run indoors and leave me calling

 

I was the project,

a chore for checking  thermostat and inner caterwauling

a wooly ten-year-itch

No itching cream could cut

the whole-y soft moth-eaten warmth you gave so freely

lies there unraveling

a silent curving path of chilled transparency

in one or two more weeks

two years

two hundred fifty

what will I be here having?

Perhaps the earth will be renewed and turn to promised regrowth

Will we be different then?

I run the numbers worn on Software jersey sweaters

I tread the trail, laced up in Logo data science sneakers

the sum of ones and zeros

Fitbits and bytes, a thousand hungry digits

for climate warming, feasting on a beetle riddled brain

a colony of lonely pithy heartwood worms I can’t get rid of

I pray this epidemic runs its course

that nature conquers greed for nurture

I lie down in the leaves forgetting everything

but self acceptance

I am so tired

wide spread and open in my stillness

embracing breath

I trace the face of God

in silent fallen angels

the soggy leaves like we

wear jersey gloves and gum boots

I think what fun we had and might have had still

if only we would go to turn turn turning

once again

to starting over

instead of hiding in the trees forlorn

We’d climb with true humility

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About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
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One Response to Turn turn turn

  1. Juan Rodriguez says:

    Lo siento.

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