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Once upon a time I met,
The former of my future set.
So tired and sick, alone depressed.
How if I find myself the rest?
How scared I am I’m scared to say,
Although I know it is God’s way
Despite the hardships they will send
With Grace of God good is the end.
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Anxiety
I met a stranger on the way
He grasped my hand and whispered ‘stay’
I waited while he spun his bent
till on his path, he then did stray.
And so I thought I’d seen the last,
Of that dark fellow. But alas.
he’s always left me with a threat,
and years he’s haunted and harassed.
If I would ever show I’m weak
Or laugh or cry or even speak
There’s no escape from loneliness
And from a future oh so bleak
But there is hope, I hold on tight
A friend so beautiful and right
She holds my hand and shows me light
She holds my hand and tells me ‘fight’.
-me (loose imitation of Robert frost)
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Over the Continental Divide
The sun had not yet shown its face
When from within our cozy case
With bleary eyes and cold pink cheeks
Unzipping from our toasty base
An hour through the pitch-black trees
Kept moving, trying not to freeze
Until we came to crossing deep
An icy chill, attempt appease
Huddled in a circle near
We sing of Christmas and Reindeer
Then through the water in the dark
We shriek and splash and then we’re clear
Just as the light begins to shine
We stop for powerballs so fine
Then back and forth and up and down
The lake before the pass we pine
We met a stranger ad he tells
This shore is not the proper swells
So upward on the slope we climb
Through scree fields, danger round us wells
Slipping, slidding, wheezing, sighing
All then felt like they were dying
Up was but our only hope
So we have to keep on trying
Three or four forevers later
Our perfect lake inside a crater
Our second pass is now in sight
Determination all the greater
Once again the slopes we slid
Rocky switchbacks soon to rid
Highest peak of our performing
Record time to top we did
Twenty minutes and we rest
Heartbeat strong inside my chest
Stopped in wonder looking back
For proudest photo coalesced.
-me
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A muddy squelsh between my toes
The cool fresh stream around me flows
The sandy grit, a rocky piece
Through cut or bruise I will not cease.
The tickle of the soft sharp grass
Polished stones like marble’s mass
The prickle of the thistle’s point
Or pinch of ant or stinging joint.
The first warm day I wander there
So happy that my feet are bare
The strict attire can take its toll
Unshod in nature rests my soul.
-me
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