The salmon work so hard
but the water runs so fast.
It holds them back; they push.
They flail; they fail.
It pushes them back, again.
They keep trying, again and again.
The water keeps rushing and raining; flowing and filling up the creek.
The salmon keep rushing and rallying; floundering and falling back.
Is it futile?
It’s life; the will forces the way.
But who’s will and who’s way?
Who wins?
Brains and brawn; Beauty doesn’t matter.
The whole thing is beautiful.
It inspires me.
It depresses me.
But the Salmon know:
It’s better to die a big death than to live a small life.

​Oh hey,
You look like someone that I used to know

As I almost walk into a street sign
that could have been death instead.
I can't help but wonder if making laws
that shouldn't need to be made
or signs that seem over-played,
is a necessity, because
common sense is anything but common.

All you have to do is watch the news so rotten.
Or scan the headlines, if you're already so depressed...
You just can't get any less impressed.
It seems our species
has lost the plot completely. 

A lot of people won't say "hi"
And I don't know why.
Maybe they're just shy?
Stuck in their own space

Happy days in happy places
Are treasures to cherish.
Because you never know
The creaking tree could come crashing down
From above
to below.
You just never know.

Crows converse.
And call me crazy
But I think I know what they say.
Bluejay bursts in, blatantly billowing. 
And the buzzing!

I sense a message
That might make sense
in another language
Like a moth chasing a flame
Or a bird chasing that moth - in vain.

One cicada, two cicada, three cicada, chorus
By the creek,
And in the forest

Where the cheeky chickadee chirps,
Chillaxin 
And then the chainsaw
A blast back to reality,
An outlaw, the machine...
... messing with my meditative mindset,

​
​Oh, the hypocrisy!



Could it be prophecy?


​
See full post, here!

~ Navajo Prayer ~
*******************
In beauty may I walk.
All day long may I walk.
Through the returning seasons may I walk.
Beautifully will I possess again...
Beautifully birds...
Beautifully joyful birds...
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk.
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk.
With dew about my feet may I walk.
With beauty may I walk.With beauty before me may I walk.
With beauty behind me may I walk. 
With beauty above me may I walk.
With beauty all around me may I walk.
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively may I walk.
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk.
It is finished in beauty.
It is finished in beauty.

Sunday morning hike.
Not a human soul around.
Cicada Symphony.