do you see, do you hear

I walk amidst many others

yet, seemingly unseen, unnoticed
my steps are pronounced with intention
loud almost to a stomp
yet, seemingly, still unheard

seems that a song must have

the right melody, the right tune
before it’s audible to ears
that don’t hear anything
but their own steps,
their own rythm and beat

a tree stands still, a miracle,
yet many eyes walk by
without it being noticed
Its lovely buds and leaves
that breathe for us,
Its bark giving joy to many tiny climbers,
Its fingers so tall they probe the clouds and
a secure abode for our soaring friends

a child’s cry from a lonely dark space

left abandoned in refuse
the mother lays at its little feet
incarnate without a soul
many walk by without a care
what kind of world does this child
caked in dirty tears, see

how loud must I stomp

what kind of song and melody
will greet your ears with welcome
must the tree fall before noticed
how long must the child sit alone
before some ones arms lifts and
embraces it with human empathy

cold winter's thought

My dreams, my tears, my love

will it all have been for naught
if the hope and faith of a deity
we’ve prayed to for so long,  
is not?

Could I have walked along

without caring or no one loving
me and all this would not matter?
and all the hate and destruction
will have been valued in the same?

What value does all the music and art

and poetry give to our lives?
why not stand still like the tree
or hang alone like the yellow
rock in the sky at night?

What do all these words matter

when you don’t care what they say
even if I tell you they come from
my heart?   

Death, is even temporary when

memory no longer serves us, if  this
blue green rock we walk upon soon
disappears into the black space,
for nothing will ever know we
were ever here

dancing with Mother Nature

Soon my aching muscles and arthritic joints

will bounce and jump for joy because the snow
and ice will be melting and once again flow north
I will walk with a jump in my step
and will kneel on dampen soil to till
and plant a seed for the spring of day
where colors will once again evince painting
the landscape  

I’ll be careful not to complain of too much rain,

too much wind or too hot of a sun
unless it becomes angry and wishes to take
the land away with floods and winds tearing apart
what my hands have built or the sun ravages the harvest
and aridity prevents children from drinking

Like the strings of an instrument if they are dissonant

and not tuned then I must balance the keys so that
they fit the likings of my ear. then I’ll play the tune
to accompany my voice and I'll sing my song
with Mother Nature, I must acclimate
and adjust to its ever changing seasons so that my
comfort level is to my liking

I need to recognize that I must adjust and accept change,

accept that all else has the right to coexist with me whether
it be another species, a tree, a rock, the stream, the person
who is taller or shorter than me, of different color and ethnicity,
a heart that sings a different tune, hormones or gender
different than mine and may be prettier, softer and
a gentler touch than mine.

If I can adjust, I will be content and free