the moon is not the mistress

The moon is not the mistress
of misconstrued desire
She is lonely sun flare firmly ricocheted
towards eyes of want
The moon is not the mistress
She is the mother of atavistic yearning
She pulls just soft enough
to remind us
Yes, it is night
Yet we see
Riparian cleft
where night winds blow
While we move as water
Clinging to the edge.

I feel the friction

Sitting on the swing
a little creaky
a lot of memories
watching that great hydrogen inferno
slowly set across the Piedmont
I kind of like the way these
crumbling barns show the
contrast of fading hues
of our farming roots
against the hum of expansion
the lapping tongue of progression
like rough cut brush strokes against
this crisp, colorful creation
I feel the friction
between this changing age
like plate tectonics, something's got to give
because I grew up snapping snaps
and popping butterbeans
chasing tadpoles and
spitting watermelon seeds
picking berries off the vine
and making love in the fields
where fireflies dance and sing in
optical glamor
but the fields are fallow now
burnt offering of fossil fuel sacrifice
we're forgetting the songs of the woods
songs of common sense
psalms of decency
this is a concrete jungle
moving in waves
across a plastic page

I saw the beauty of life
in the fragility of a thirsty hummingbird
hovering with just enough grace to purse
my lips into a curve
sitting on the swing, warm summer evening
sipping down on our concoction of atonement and actuality
I can taste the simplicity and languor
begging
yearning to return.

Photo of the Day

Sunrise from Round Bald, Tennessee on the Appalachian Trail

untitled poem

Trees sway
As grasses to an ant’s sneeze
Mountains flow
Like rain droplets in sand
Patterns and waves
Dictate our landscape
As well as us all
Spirals and crevices
Create our form
Trees sway as do we.

photo of the day

an osprey, the skilled fisherman, takes off from her nest platform along Taskinas Creek
York River State Park, Va

Watching ourselves in the night sky

Sometimes at night
I like to lay out on the cool summer grass
Or an outcropping with just
The right fold for my body
And see how far I can stare
Into the translucent aether
Filtering my view
Into the celestial canopy

Water vapor and dust
Ancestral flames
Strings and waves of vibrating
Frequencies bending nicely
To the hands of this expanding
Imagination of consciousness
And reality we all draw
With our actions, dollars
And dreams

And I’ve never been able to see
To the end
It’s stretching out
Though we move closer
Which confuses this wide eyed
Country boy

We are bending timescales
I’m watching the revolution
Spinning around fixed point
I can feel myself moving at speed
If I calm my mind.
This rate of change is unruly

Sometimes at night
I like to lay out on the cool summer grass
Or an outcropping with just
The right fold for my body
And see how far I can stare
And remember the dreams
Of a child who yearns to return
The inertia of progression of thought
Acclimating from the asinine
Into dirt and the sanguine.

Summertime

Summer is upon us, we are close to maximum tilt and long days as we in the Northern Hemisphere begin tilting back away from the Sun after the recently passing Solstice. That means rocking chairs and sun tea, fire flies and thunderstorms, blueberries and bears, and sanguine nights.



Come on in and sit a spell.



a beautiful lily blooming on the first day of Summer



sunset at Hanging Rock Raptor Observatory, VA/WV border




sunrise at Hanging Rock Raptor Observatory



fog in the valley



sunset at Kelly's Knob, Va




the powerful Reishi mushroom of the Appalachians, Ganoderma tsugae
more info



sunset at Kelly's Knob, Va



Flaming Azalea's in all their colorful glory