A Morning Walk Through Different Neighborhoods
1.) A Morning in the Country
We lived our lives, not like the Washo Tribe,
we placed our fears in freshly woven reed,
to hunt a rabbit, one recently freed,
to listen to this ancient diatribe.
When standing chilled upon the shores of lake
I hear the yells and screams of history,
to whistle in my ear a mystery,
the horses knew this land was for their sake.
When time placed me within my own valley.
The peaks of the Sierra to Washoe.
These giants willing to sit in quiet,
to stare out over lakes, and streams, and me,
at different times of day produce shadow
or underneath the brilliant stars of night.
2.) A Morning in the City
Sometimes I find myself in large cities
where times of day are filled with different crowds,
where everybody hides behind their shrouds,
constantly walking to hide their achilles.
I raised a child or two upon this street,
to hold their hands and walk to local park
not all these streets are grim or darkly stark
for some have coffee shops where friends will meet.
Where everything you needs within a walk.
A different sort of hunt is underfoot
an argument of voices in the wind.
Through newly planted shade trees down the block
I grip my child’s hand in the cities soot
and pass by Lilac bushes neatly trimmed.
3.) A Morning Contemplation
How does one compare and contrast a life?
How can I judge each identical lawn
or identifying marks all but gone,
as we look at our homes, who is our wife?
When hidden behind pastel doors will be,
not like the fictions we stuff ourselves full,
to let our eyes be covered, shut by wool,
small moments of love from a family.
Whether our neighborhoods in blooming sage
within the beauty of a lush valley
or surrounded by Quail or desert bird,
whether we stand upon suburban stage
or hidden deep within the gray city,
I hope my children’s laughter is still heard.