The Nature of Things

Lost in thought,
hemmed in by
not knowing,
trapped
in the work-a-day world
do or die,
I took a walk,
found a Toad
in the leaves
by the woods,
slowed down
to a stands-still
by the cold.
Will you be my
good luck charm?
I'm not superstitious
but I needed something - a sign
of good things
to come.
So I carried it inside,
but it felt out of place
in that sterile place
where the natural
is not.
I thought,
I'd better bring it
out,
let it go back
to the place it knows.
To the place
I wish
to go.

Talisman

Feather
you keep
in your
pocket.
You believe
in
the god of things
found
on the ground
in
the morning
present
in the glide
of a Red Tail
crossing
your path
just like
that.
Is it all random
you ask
or
do those Highways
you drive
lead to
Nirvana?

Who's that knocking at my door?

The gentle bull of childhood
lies beneath the cork tree,
dreams of endless sun stoked fields, hills
that roll and stretch to eternity.
In time, you must wake,
prepared or not,
to feel
the morning
seeping
into your life
like an
oozing wound.
Fight,
you might, or
turn back
into sleep,
but the house around you
shall crumble into dust,
and reality will join you

in bed.