Did you ever hike
 To become fond of your pack
Inordinately?

The heart is where the home is
So long as the load is lite.

Likely Epitaph

Tom Hobbes’ epitaph,

“… the true philosopher’s stone” -

Tomb bumper sticker.

A Month After the Solstice

The sun stays longer.

The momentum of winter

Carries the dark chill.

Old Master Laotse

Was surnamed the “Long-Eared” -

Ancestor rabbit.

- (Ref: Kakuzo, Book of Tea, p39)

Cold enough to drift,

Snow blows horizontally -

Carolina pines.

In the air, then down,

Spine against the iced porch deck -

Yanked by my leashed dog.

My children, all three,

Are human beings in full bloom.

The angles rejoice.

Face in the mirror -

All of the old man creases

Are of bright laughter.

Leaves falling through light -

Each agrees when to let go 

With sweet surrender.

My skull crashed against

The trunk down across the trail -

We’ve sagged since last spring.

All Thanksgiving day,

Just begging for attention -

Lone red mailbox flag.

Lost on Cold Mountain,

Cliffs, torrents & blasted pines -

I’ve sought for this site.

Rushing to my death

Down a cataract of days

At the speed of breath

Home to multitudes,

Birthing foxes & midges,

Their woods is now logged.

In a loud moment

Breaking waves turn the lake white -

Summer thunder storm.