Salmon Run
Among the eddies slackened pools give way
to shards and scraps of life along the shore.
In foam the fry await their call; the lore
upstream in shallow waters will life lay
in silt and rock. Young fins and gills at bay
until strong bursts make berth for something more;
to water where rich life that does restore
the placid pools that promise a long stay.
And in that spring when crimson backs will rise,
calls forth the march of grizzled fur and teeth
to turbid waters for a lavish feast.
But now the end of danger brings surprise:
in lapping water young fins lie beneath.
The cycle has made peace with fish and beast.
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Words in a Snowy Wood
For in the rime of winter ivory lives
a chance at sleep among the trunks of white.
He waits in hope for emerald life that gives,
like mossy lichen hiding from the light.
And striving forward through each season’s pain,
still keeping limbs in motion with an oath;
The nuts and bolts brought dollars for his gain.
But in the end the praise and gifts he loathed.
A shell of frost and filth his heart did make.
He forged his craft with pen and pad and pain
with words in ink spilled from his heart awake.
But in white powder buried words remain.
And now he sits--the winter of his day.
In hopes the lasting ink on minds will stay.
Between Summer and Fall
Along the verdant meadows green and fair,
the cold and bubbling water runs its course.
And leaves and logs have left lost mem’ry there—
my cold and icy heart the hidden source.
In these green hills we laughed and cried and kissed.
We held young hands, bare feet on morning dew.
But one dead tree on that green briar missed.
Bare limbs, dried bark, warned of a love untrue.
And yet we walked into that morning sun
in hopes warm breeze and light would conquer all.
But darkened clouds blew fast and killed the fun.
Green leaves on weeping limbs did wilt and fall.
And now that hilly pasture loved so dear
Sits withered, broken, leveled by the shear.
Redemption on Rough Seas
A ship set sail with mast and rudder strong;
the journey on bright seas that matched the day.
Blue waves that broke and pushed the ship along
to vibrant worlds that once seemed far away.
And in those sunny days among the sand,
the sea, upstream into the mountain wood
our minds did wander from His peaceful hand,
because free will He always said we could.
But hidden blackness breaks the sail and mast,
turns waves against us, broken skin and cells.
And sunny days become a clouded past.
Returning with one worried heart that tells
of depths so cold and pain in waters deep.
Hands clasped with cross and faith in Him we keep.
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Vanishing Point
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The glow along the western sky tonight
extends beyond our naked vision’s gaze.
Unknown where winding trails in pastures might
lead frightful mind and heart through dust and haze.
And at the point where sweat and tears would meet
should lie a treasure worthy of the trade.
But in that light and dark and cold and heat,
long days behind the desk the glow will fade.
And missing laughs and drinks with friends and kin;
the chance at harvest from the summer’s toil
did not give birth to peace of mind within,
but only days of warmth and fun did spoil.
And so, we set a course for balance new
where work and play will stay in healthy view.
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Passing Storm
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The clouds that press along the western sky
with charcoal blankets that envelop all.
No man walks near, no bird does dare to fly
into the tempest and its chilling call.
With bolts of death, divorce, and social strife
that make us flee in hopes that all will pass,
but turbid winds return throughout one’s life,
and wiry traps lay hidden in the grass.
And still, we rise embracing wind and rain
Through loss of jobs and loved ones still in thought;
the salty drops in open eyes remain.
But lessons bearing brilliant rays were taught.
And when the drops desist and clouds move on,
the sun returns as gentle as the dawn.
Ripples on a Placid Lake
A chunk of suet dropped from wings above
forms sounding waves that glide across the drink;
We fought like fleshy beasts for one true love.
Wings flapped; eyes peaked in hopes no love would sink.
But shouts and screams set caudal fins to steer
from turbid waves to deeper water find.
For when we pass through shallow waters near,
sharp talons clench and skin and scales will grind.
Strong wings and claws pull fins and flesh away
from murky havens once so black and deep
the vision anchored at lake’s bottom stay;
of screams and shouts that have been put to sleep.
And yet in darkened water out of sight,
foul tongues submerged in search of hearts to bite.