Still hear everyone. Nothing new by the way of sketches and drawings. Just wanted you to know that I'm making some progress on putting together two new books, one a collection of landscape sketches and drawings, and the other, stuff that I write in the form of poetry and prose that no one wants to hear, or read, stuff dealing with global warming, and dying and death, with the odd piece related to nature and the nature of things. That I write about dying and death should be expected, as I'm much older than most of you and get up every morning realizing that the horizon is much closer. It's a tough subject, but you know, someone has to write the odd thing about ageing, as there are so many living the experience. It's not nice, of course, the reason that I tell younger persons to live every day and to not put off until you're aged, as unlike wine, ageing doesn't make things better.
Comes The Day
It begins at the beginning,
a clock ticking quietly measuring time, until
with our purpose served it begins to tick loudly
letting us know, that time, once our friend,
now not so friendly.
Ageing,
never seemingly a threat,
perhaps to others, but
never to us when feeling our best.
Comes the day when we finally accept,
that we’ve aged like others, and are
no longer a threat to those who would race
to find a place at the head of the line,
leaving us breathless, and so far behind.
We never prepared, thinking that
we would be spared the aches,
and the pains,
and failing minds.
Faced with reality,
dreams left behind, we
live with denial, and hope for the best,
life left enjoyable, and not set adrift.
But, try as we may there comes the day,
when we have little choice but to finally accept, that
life as we knew it is steadily leaving,
and soon we are adrift,relying upon others
to point us the way to what we’ve been dreading,
since time started ticking.
~~~~~
I do appreciate the moments, however, the quiet times when one can sit and look around enjoying nature carry on despite humanity's efforts to alter the very essence of nature....
I SIT AND WATCH
Drops of water on the Rose of Sharon,
last night’s summer rain,
sparkle like diamonds
in dawn’s early light.
A breeze stirs the garden’s flowers,
shaking off the fallen rain, absorbs the moisture,
and stores it on a passing cloud, to share another day,
with flora and fauna,
many, many, miles away.
Daisy Fleabane going to seed
shakes its heads,
and opens its sleeping flowers ,
a greeting to the morning hour.
Like the troubadours of old,
Robin sings his morning song.
Buzzards drift lazyily in the morning sky,
searching for things that may have died.
Mourning Doves,
greet the morning with a coo.
Crows ever vigilant,
hunger driven.
watch,
and listen.
I sit, and watch, and listen,
as Nature rails at our revisions,
struggling to hold together
other’s visions.
This world we think as ours,
torn apart by indecision,
on the brink of extinction,
greets our morning with forlorn.
I close my eyes so I can see,
what I’d would like to see,
and listen.
~~~~~
Well, must go, but before doing so, here's a few sketches and drawings of Georgian Bay.....
