April 1, 2024 - A Year of Living Drizzly

 

 

 

 

 

Seems like it was a year with little sun,
Or rain for all that that may matter.
I think it's mostly drizzled; we've been stuck inside
Steadily getting older still and fatter.

It's been a year since last I ventured
Even some bit of anything not required.
A year to clean, maintain, repair, improve
The space in which we find that we are mired

Some years are like that. This was one;
A year to surrender to the weather.
A time for bookkeeping, dusting, organizing.
For getting all our stuff together.

Drizzly years tend to be about
Maintaining, enduring, catching up.
Uneventful weather often sets the tone
The meteorological and emotional matching up.

When one has a season of that sort,
A year of tedious maintenance of the nest,
Probably wise to get your tools and plan
To do whatever housekeeping you do best.

Next year may be more satisfying,
A year to let your spirit break and run.
For once your life's again in order,
It's time to celebrate; perhaps there will be sun.

Have another go at drinking deep,
Of what's out there and waits for you
And from your newly ordered nest,
Strike out for challenges anew.

© 2024 by Tom King

April 21 - The Flowers of the Fields

The Flowers of the Fields

The grey parched fields of summer tan
   Turn into autumn's hay by heap and bale.
Dead winter ground follows; dry sticks, bare oaks.
   And solemn skies dusty blue, parched and pale.
Then comes the resurrection of the spring,
   A rush of blinding color spreads across the plains,
Covering the detritus of the long dry seasons,
   Spurred on by April gully washers and May's little rains.

© 2019 by Tom King

April 27 - Taking the Low Road

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taking the Low Road

It's spring and everybody's tired.
Even the geese are hitchhiking home.
All this excitement is exhausting,
The buffalo too pooped to roam.

But once the fawns are born,
And calves are calved in time
To get the herds on down the road
To summer and the growing time,

We'll take a moment to lie down
In the fields or on the beaches,
We'll catch the mountain breeze and fly,
Or challenge breakers out beyond the reaches.

It's spring but just this minute I can feel
The autumn chill wrap itself around my bones,
The cycle of the seasons winding down relentlessly,
To winter already humming low in icy tones.

I've been out walking with the geese
Today, in the quiet spring along the road.
Breathing in the promise of one season more,
While old river time around me flowed.

© 2017 by Tom King

Suddenly

Suddenly

by Tom King

Suddenly it's fall. The cottonwoods announced it today

With a gold and russet ticker tape parade;

A shower of leaves raining down when a sudden breeze

Gusted among the treetops, shaking them loose.

Me and the dog, rambling down the lane, were caught up in it.

The crisp pop of dried leaves rattling down among the branches;

Blowing into loose drifts at my feet made me look up.

Gray clouds threaded across the fading blue sky.

The dog is excited. All the dogs along the lane are barking and jumping,

They smell the rabbits and the squirrels, making forays

From brambles, thickets and decaying trees, pillaging and storing

Their booty in treasure caches only they can find sometimes.

The season changed today, not on the official date

But on the schedule that the Earth and Sun decided.

We feel small, me and the dog, wandering the gravel roads;

There are bigger things going on that we may not meddle with.

Autumn came suddenly today.  Yesterday was summer.

Now it's fall - announced with a breathy whisper

Along the lane, beneath the cottonwood trees

An errant breeze pressed along by gray clouds.

It feels like a celebration, what with the dogs and squirrels and leaves

All a-twitter like kids let out of school, or going back after summer.

Something staged by He who spun out the worlds and placed us here,

To smile at Him when autumn is announced, all of a sudden.

© 2013 by Tom King

Written at the Carriage House – Puyallup, Washington

When the Summer Came

By Tom King

When the summer came

Oh, I had fine resolutions.

               I’ll bring her daisies every day,

                              And we will walk for hours in the sun

…And I did once or twice bring her daisies,

               But we never found the time

                              To walk in the sun

And now when summer’s gone

And God has touched the forests red and gold

               “I shall sing her songs by twilight,

                              And we shall hold hands in the gathering dusk.

…And I have writ the songs,

               But cannot sing them half so well

                              As my heart wants.

Never mind my darling

Never mind at all

               For dusk will surely gather and daisies bloom

                              And we have always

                                             Each others’ hands to hold.

*  Copyright 1986

Composed on a Commodore computer at Odyssey Harbor - June, 1986