Hammer On The Hearth

Been kicked around these past days by emotions,

Been kicked around these past days with some thoughts.

Been kicked around these past days by the numbers in my mind,

Running like a hammer on the hearth.

 

Our first born, well he just turned sixteen,

Growing tall, with solid wings to fly.

Each birthday, it reminds us of the time you’ve been away,

Running like a hammer on the hearth.

 

He’s driving now and he can do his own thing,

He’s focused on his future – where he’ll go.

From this world, you saw less than two weeks of his life,

And it’s running like a hammer on the hearth.

 

Yesterday, I met some of your old friends,

And others just a couple weeks ago.

Through their eyes, I can feel the goodness of your heart,

But it’s running like a hammer on the hearth.

 

These days I sense the changing of the seasons,

It’s in the air, and dawn coats it on the grass.

If I could turn back time, you’d be by a mountain lake,

But it’s running like a hammer on the hearth.

 

It’s not for me to let go of this feeling,

And I’ll never let these memories slip away.

Questions clutter thoughts but love it deepens every day,

And it’s running like a hammer on the hearth.

 

© 2016

UNLONELY

THE AWAKENING descends the tall, thin trees in front of me,

as the golden light first peeks then rises above the bowl we visit.

My fire, just a few shards of wood minutes ago, started with an ember, now

crackles with enthusiasm, its rising heat casting shadows on gravel and grass.

Nearby, a woodpecker rhythmically hunts, goldfinches play, and others sing

morning songs as the hot coffee I sip chases away the cobwebs in my head.

A group of hungry deer wander on to a ridge not far above,

and pay me no more mind than I do them.

Far down past the trees mist rises off the water of the lake,

man-made, its rock cliffs an example of ingenuity, and yet still Godly.

Mid-yesterday eight children joyously played and were pulled across its surface.

This Sunday morning everyone sleeps, my fire, my feathered friends,

and dripping dew the only assault on my ears.

I am not lonely, and I can’t help but smile.

 

© 2015