The Simple Word Poetry

The snow, falling in fits, arrives dressed in indistinguishable attire,  cold to the touch. Myriad flakes resemble one another from my window. A hot fire burns in my wood stove, warming my emotions. I think of her again, recall her smile and grace, which  resembles snow flakes dancing in mid-air. My hound stretches himself out on the couch, he twitches spasmodically as dreams prance through his head. I often wonder what it is that dogs dream about. Playing catch in the yard? A tasty rawhide bone? Or the cute bitch next door? Like a passing train, the tea kettle whistles its tune. I sip my hot tea, lounge back into my recliner and glance at  the snow falling outside. When it warms they will become a distant memory, forgotten, melted away like the dreams  of her. My hound yawns and I drift away like a passing ship at sea.

I nearly died once. Youth and innocence prohibits dwelling over such traumatic ordeals. Questioning my own mortality permits me now to ponder the near misses. It's summertime, school is out and the backyard pool is my refuge from the hot, sunny day. I don't swim well and diving boards scare me. I keep to the shallow end, for the deep end swallows the timid. To stimulate my childish exuberance I take to jumping and spinning into the refreshing chlorine-soaked waters. There are two other people with me, a young girl and her mother. My mom never allowed me into the pool without adult supervision. I knew better than to break that rule. Like a dolphin jumping in and out of the ocean with playful ease, I soar as high as I possibly can and twist in mid-air like a water spout off Florida Bay before descending. As the strong waves violently crash on shore against the jagged rocks, my head strikes the unforgiving cement. My world goes black, time ceases to exist until waking a far distan

   When I was younger and had hair on my head I would curse the wind. A wispy annoyance disheveling my delicately-arranged coiffure. Today, though, with my scalp as baron as a clear cut Amazon forest, I worry not of such trivialities. Now, I lucidly hear the wind's call in my older years. Are the God's of nature still trying to tell me a story? Should I have listened to them long ago? Even so, I feel her angry voice breathing in strong gales off of the bay at night. Her tender touch dimples my bare arms. When the leaves blow I now take notice. An animal's keen intuition is not always required. We should not be taken by surprise when nature gets pissed at us for sullying her home. She has warned us for generations, we just need to listen, hair or no hair.

Walking into the cold, dark room the candle light dances in uncoordinated fits, emitting irregular shadows. The day-weary man steps cautiously across  the creaky wooden floor, hoping not to  disturb the sleeping masses. The bed sheets on his side ripple and crest like the growling ocean in a storm. The four-legged monster beneath wishes  not to be bothered. The man, like a stubborn sea captain, attempts  to tame the rough seas and lays down amidst the tattered sheets. There is only so much room for all of us  in this ocean. The weary-man capitulates to the grumpy beast beneath  on this night. Alas, another passage is sought, though another voyage will be attempted tomorrow, for this captain shall not be defeated.

There are moments in life that bring new meaning to our existence. A sort of wake up call during the tired slumber of a winter's evening. We were seemingly nowhere, surrounded by the vast and frigid openness, the stars prancing on our foreheads while pins of light moved indiscriminately overhead. We are not alone in this infinite universe.  I light the flashlight  intermittently, just in case,  for I've heard stories of mountain lions  surprising unsuspecting travelers in the wild. Even in the dead of winter the weary feel famished and I wish not to be this evening's tasty hors d'oeuvres. All around, the mountains tower over me, render my life and I small and insignificant. This happens to a man amidst the enormity of nature and  it is I that owe it my gratitude. I am no longer the man I was before, forever altered by nature's seductive wind-swept kiss. 

The cosmos erupted billions of years ago into a fiery ball of gases, shattered stars, rocky fragments and debris. Confine the stars barriers did not. The corporeal matter co-mingled, congealed and became one. Earth was born from this devastatingly-beautiful galactic tragedy. This nascent floating orb, with its virgin soil and dust-choked air, did not regale in exclusion, for foreign organic ingredients were vital towards assuring its growth. Early on, animals roamed free across the continents and soon man would join them. Those four-legged and winged creatures understood the limitless terrains and skies. For them, borders and walls were unconscionable. The timid and afraid say that the walls that man has erected keep us safe from foreign adversaries. These obstructions are immoral and serve no socially-redeeming value. They only barricade us from those whom we do not know, stifle our intellectual capacity to learn what we know not, and turn would-be friends and neighbors into must-be

A simple life, few words a circling hawk conveys Muted, the mountains soar and repel our foggy haze The God within - she knows who I am Small and minute, the spirit regales in obscurity The woman weeps and then I show her The simple life's purity.