As a wanderer, I traveled the world outside my home
walking the road to it’s end.
At first the road was hard and lonely until I found a friend.
I sat with him while the embers burned and warmed my soul
within the homely abode.
Prepared again for the world outside, I took the wayward road
Yet when the sun sank down and cold set in, the way had been lost.
So on a stone I sat and thought
How once I shared the shelter but currently did not
In that moment of true despair, I finally made my peace.
Finding an abode in my own,
I remembered my friend, I remembered my home.
Palau Bush Warbler by Margaret Sloan
Shark and Clown Fish by Jim Christensen
No equine ride into the town square this time, this is a different kind of victory,
The victory of a strong arm defying an increasingly heavier weight –
An increasingly weaker arm.
His head bends now as that of one bowed in thought.
After the battle rages, others will ride forth on their horses into the town square.
For now though, the surrounding clamors begin to ebb,
As if to regard a final moment of intimate thought.
This is a different kind of victory.
Is there an arrow of time if you don’t mind?
Sublimely I mind my time as it narrows.
Everyone does work to avoid entropy.
Yet if everyone did it, would it work?
A feeling had on chance occurrences meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex.
That moment before love collapses onto sad space time coordinates of life
That instant when I first looked upon your radiant face.
Trapped like a caged green bird
But what cage is it that surrounds me
Whose bars are made of the sadness of all things
Preventing to spread light angel wings.
Sorry little bird, you can’t fly free.
If I cannot fly free then I will sing the song of the zen flute bird,
Seldom known for seldom heard
Until the cage, the bars, and the wings
Fade away like soft sea foam.