Hiking the Hatchery Trail

Hiking the Hatchery Trail

On the path to the salmon hatchery
beneath the canopy of the green
Douglas fir standing like tall
foot soldiers—water rushing. Beyond, the
peaks of lofty, mountain passages
white with late snowfall, fallen and decaying

sections of old growth forest
the ghosts of giant sequoias
whisper in the gentle wind
brownish, pronged, scattered, bits and
pieces of history- remnants of an early age
with lifeless, agéd fossils in the ground;
embossed timepieces—

embedded for eternity, slow-moving
the foggy path advances —

we penetrate this novel world wary,
bitter, unsure of ourselves
unlike the wild salmon . Everything about them
the cold, familiar water—

then the gravel, next
the green moss of spawning beds
little by little matter is distinct —
It vivifies: lucidity, outline of the origin

But now the reality of the season
eternity—yet, the intense transformation
has come upon them: deep-seated, they
now deposit new life and begin to die.

Airport Scan

Airport Scan

I have been observing a southwest roadrunner
hunt in the desert, chasing lizards
with the intensity of a single girl seeking a mate,
ravenous eyes searching and green
as they scan and scan again, as they gaze and gape.

Imagine that she's an ordinary girl working
at an airline booth. Her sweet smile fits right in.
Endless hours churn behind the Plexiglas window
of the ticket counter, every hour the same. On the brow
of each day, perspiration trickles.

Unaware, the passengers don't see her, scanning
for a prospective victim. Her eyes are fixed
on a certain man like a bird of prey.
She would ingest him whole if she could,
subdue him, take him to her nest.

The Village at Sunset

The waning days

at Sunset Greens

are not your ordinary days

none of your

busy days like the city

The waning days at Sunset Greens

are slow days

dawdling days

and days of leisure

dozing in warm sun

drowsing at noon

around plush fairways

sitting in the village square

and then the early cocktail hour

after the sun goes down

when lanterns illuminate adobe walls

like fireflies dancing in darkness

their tiny lights flickering

making the square look like

an old Mexican village

but fatigue arrives suddenly

for residents here

long retired from the ebb and flow

and then another day

when another sunrise

eases in

and in those rays of warmth

the old folks smile

waiting for sunset at Sunset Greens

An Easter Ballade

An Easter Ballade

Resilient as seasoned hardwood
Defeat never in his regal plan
Never one to sit and brood
Always first to take a stand
A man to lend a helping hand
A friend to those in dire need
A leader of this human clan
Destined on a cross to bleed

His fate bound to moral good
Nothing like an ordinary man-
He died upon a wooden rood,
Was interred in a cave of sand
Arose again as God had planned
And suffered for our sins and deeds
A martyr in a decadent land
Destined on a cross to bleed

Enduring pain as best he could
Rusty nails pierced his hands,
Body gaunt from lack of food
Dying was the Son of Man
His blood dripping upon the sand
Defying all the roman creeds
And flames of hatred that they fanned
Destined on a cross to bleed

Everlasting life God’s plan
Jesus’ sacrifice our need
Our lives are in his loving hands
Destined on a cross to bleed

Changing of the Guard Ballade

Changing of the Guard Ballade

The time has come your term is done
Eight long years you’ve ruled this place
We’re sick of you; you’ve had your fun
So please no more of this disgrace
Or shame, humiliation, loss of face
Long we’ve suffered, now we’re through
The winds of change we now embrace
Somewhere, somehow you’ll get what’s due

You’ve always been your father’s son
Twisting, turning with a smirky face
As if war and famine a jolly pun
A family joke, a trivial footrace
Today’s the day we change our pace
No more your governance do we rue
You, gladly we will soon replace
Somewhere, somehow you’ll get what’s due

On parched earth under the Texas sun
Or perhaps a victim of the rat race
Or rotting blindly in a Baghdad slum
Or you’ll disappear without a trace
We wish you no ill for your disgrace
Just that you boil in your own brew
For the sins that time can’t ever erase
Somewhere, somehow you’ll get what’s due

So be on your way, you’ve made your case
We celebrate and start anew
Again we join the human race
Somewhere, somehow you’ll get what’s due

Renewal

Renewal

First day of spring
Sensual sap flows through the veins
First day of spring
A chevron of geese takes to wing
Easter brings the cleansing rains
God’s work evident throughout the plains
First day of spring

The New mesquite

The New Mesquite

Every transformation becomes more than a mere face lift
Fields and lives forever changed
Sand dunes are interspersed with grassy fairways
Snakes slither into outer space
This desert surreal
As a powdery moonscape or an alien-infested
Wal-Mart at a midnight sale
Desert tortoises, arid wasteland
Easterly eco-explorations
Into the dry, almost desolate desert
Along a corridor of washes
A vast flood plain
The Virgin river that begins at Zion-
Symbol of perfection
The scampering roadrunners among succulents
A place that I call home
Where I awake to the brawling of bulldozers
After a long and restless sleep
Cultivating cacti in my dreams
The grinding teeth of change gnashing in my ears
Every barren acre will turn into housing
Hills become golfing meccas
Casino lights overshadow the stars and planets
Hordes escape Wisconsin winters
They race past the serene past
The Hopi hieroglyphics on sandstone walls
The adobe-brick Mormon barns
The thirst-slaking way-stations that give
Respite from dusty roads
The present an inevitable metamorphosis
From there to here, from then to now,
From east to west, from heart to head.

At the Trail creek Tavern

At the Trail Creek Tavern

A row of Harleys line the hitching post-
tired horses this evening, road dust
settles on their black manes.
A hound sleeps and barks at the moon
from the cedar porch

The antique cooler, chock full of iced Budweiser’s
and frosted mugs, burbles along.
A bunch of loud bikers on the barstools
grisly and gregarious…
I order a mug from Orbie the barkeep

Loggers arrive like salmon on the spawn.
Janie jingles coins in the juke box
recollecting her innocent days as she
plays The Heartbreaker’s “Free Falling”.
Yes, she was innocent once.
Albert enters, inhales a beer quickly
and tells of the drowning on the river,
tells about the guide’s poor judgment.

The tavern is tumultuous. A cacophony
of roughnecks opening the pressure valve,
allowing steam to escape while the old hound
sleeps on the cedar porch and barks at the moon

Hum Drum

Hum Drum

Predictable
Change is inevitable
Predictable
Aging wine is delectable
Four seasons are dependable
Life is short and expendable
Predictable

Paseo Verde

Paseo Verde

A green going
a quiet path through the garden
a green going-
flowers, fertile ground for sowing
a small pond with Dolly Varden
Mary’s icon granting pardon
A green going

Too Late

Too Late

Growing old is hard to do
After years of gross neglect
Past laxity we cannot correct-
No secret potion or magic brew

To whisk away a life so cruel
When Time his due he must collect
Growing old is hard to do
After years of gross neglect

Too late to extricate from stew
Too late to win or reconnect
Too late to begin life anew
Too late to save our dying necks
Growing old is hard to do

A River Rondel

A River Rondel

Down the river in an old canoe
Far away from the everyday bustle
Where wild trout play and aspen rustle
Kissed by the sun, hugged by the dew

We glide downstream refreshed anew
Rejoice at the soreness of each new muscle
Down the river in an old canoe
Far away from the everyday bustle

Our winding course natural and true
Distant from the crowd’s daily hustle
Just you and I among the few
We paddle on without a tussle
Down the river in an old canoe

Through Clouded Eyes

Through Clouded Eyes

The melody of morning.
Black-throated desert sparrows
chatter in the palm fronds:
chirr…chirr…chit chit chit .

The sunrise, a glaring cymbal
crashing over the near mountain peaks
like a golden flood without
a ripple or murmur –

a great awakening light
warm and serene
shines into the heart and mind
radiates through every fiber.

Each precious moment entails
every other. Sacred places
suggest all places. Each man,
each woman exemplifies all others.

The challenge to keep the fire going,
The conversation and music alive,
the melody of the morning
to survive and thrive.