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
You just never know.
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,
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!
On a walk through town and forest
I love where I live
and the joy that it gives:
Dundas, Ontario, it's Our Valley-Town,
Along Spencer Creek, where nature abounds.
In my backyard, Great Beauty is found.
Though I didn't always know,
and I was sort of just a schmo;
For it was not but several years ago...
I'd trek along the trail,
oblivious to the snails.
Thumbs thumping iPhone,
iPod pop tunes, head down,
and wrapped in my own private sound.
iMind my iBusiness,
but now it seems I digress...
In my middle-aged Nowadays,
I listen to what the bird says,
the clamouring cicadas,
thundering and the creaky tree.
The water is turning and churning,
that cascading creek, rushing those rocks!
If you really listen, you know that the creek truly talks.
When it's inspiration that I seek
I take myself out for a peek.
Sitting on a rock by a creek
I listen and hear nature speak.
And I'm in utter awe
of many mighty, minuscule, meaningful moments:
Oh, dear! A deer
share a stare
while the hare hops and the squirrel goes over the bridge.
"You're an Artist. And it's a great place to Be," said the biker to the Dreamer.
And, just so you know
this is a true story,
more or less, or less is more...
Maybe it was all but a dreamer's dream,
or a poet's poem?
Here is the complete adventure in photographs:
Along Spencer Creek, or, Why I Love Living in, Our Valley Town, Dundas, Ontario
I love Dundas so I'm gonna show it with my pictures!
~ 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 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.