<\/div>\n

September Song<\/strong><\/p>\n

A toad down a well
\nsees only some of the sky,
\ncannot judge true hue.<\/p>\n

We have fire and
\nwe have coffee, what a buzz
\nwatching rising sun.<\/p>\n

Daily waking life
\nstone stacking stone stacking stone
\nseeking the unturned.<\/p>\n

Wife sits in silence,
\nI peak in through her windows,
\ntry to see who’s home.<\/p>\n

Hug to hug we hold
\nrecharge station equation
\nany time ease need.<\/p>\n

Got a thrum sprocket
\nsproutin’ up in my pocket
\nfor your love socket.<\/p>\n

Lady bleeds with moon,
\nRerunning her tithe to time
\nin old bloodbound loop.<\/p>\n

Sitting here in heat
\nknowing soon the snow will come,
\nshiver just a bit<\/p>\n

Green leaf seeking sun
\nfor some photosynthesis,
\nraising sap in tree.<\/p>\n

Picking raspberries
\nunder the sun in the thorns,
\nwarm firm flesh on tongue.<\/p>\n

Fire feeds fire
\nas flame eats flame flame climbs flame
\nin arousal rise.<\/p>\n

The bees mix pollen,
\nnectar, their inner enzymes,
\nvomit pure honey.<\/p>\n

Oh my how quickly
\nthe weather changes whether
\nfrom sweat to sweater.<\/p>\n

Leaves tumble, trees die,
\nrot in soil, feed fresh seed,
\nnew time grows from old.<\/p>\n

Sun and leaf meet green,
\nbark runs sap from each to each,
\nearth, sun, fire, air.<\/p>\n

I hear far off cry.
\nIs it bird? Cat? Plant? Human?
\nSuch are times we’re in.<\/p>\n

Some have less not more,
\nothers just the opposite —
\nwhere’s the fair whether?<\/p>\n

Sleep rolls over me
\ndulling war and famine, pain . . .
\nthink I’ll sleep some more.<\/p>\n

Life oft requires
\nfinding the one position
\nthat hurts a bit less.<\/p>\n

Sooner is better,
\ncold lunch on hot afternoon,
\nbut later is fine<\/p>\n

Life\u2019s flotsam jetsam
\nflood our living surface in
\ntide of daily use.<\/p>\n

No matter how hard
\nyou try, or much you focus,
\nsometimes things go bad.<\/p>\n

Low light lake and sky
\nforgetting where ends begin,
\nhere and there unclear.<\/p>\n

No scream for ice cream,
\nno urgent rush to recess,
\nneed to clean your room.<\/p>\n

All the aches of pain
\nin spirit flesh imprisoned
\ntemper each new dawn.<\/p>\n

If I had a cow
\nand named him Moot, Moot would moo
\nunless Moot were mute.<\/p>\n

Fresh from our garden
\nnewly plucked in my cupped hands,
\nsmell of rosemary.<\/p>\n

Crickets count degree,
\nplay le jazz hot or go cool
\nbeat depending heat.<\/p>\n

A dead clock reads right
\nby accident twice a light,
\notherwise is lies.<\/p>\n

I’m driving dirty
\nthrough this laundry list they call
\nThe Rules of Order.<\/p>\n

~ Smith<\/p>\n