Friday, August 12, 2011

A Sunlit Sonnet, As a Tired Traveler Rethinks His Route

Oh, bless this shaking city boy
all fair-toned skin and fragile hands
we wait where ground is pavement
in shadows of towering triumph

and life moves fast, speeding
in and out of consciousness
the days run short as we tend
our flocks of material possession
and 401ks

there, sunrise is a light switch
and sunset comes at 2 am
when we collapse in a pile of
exhaustion, not from hard work,
but from listless accumulation.

there, we fight each other
for say in the plot, for a grasp
on the wheel of time
as, shaking, I quickly lose interest
in the details of this city boy

No. give me some horizon
obscured, not by buildings
not by industry and wealth
but by towering Colorado Mountains

where the skyline is the pine trees
all ancient and alive
where the guarded grass and gravel
are my foundation,
holding strong for weary feet

and conversation is talk radio.
where full-blossomed clouds
are my television screen
spelling out soap operas,
exhilarating as the soul inside me.

and stars are our street lights
as we climb into bed,
calloused hands pulling covers overhead

and the trickling river, unyielding
consistent as time
rushes through valleys
where we sit and write our love songs

yes. give me days to sit and stare
at deer stalking their fields,
and unending horizons
where we could see forever
were these mountains not so tall

where those house keys to our hearts
are softly set in place
and we hear whispers through cracks in the door
that something is moving
in, out, through our tired souls.

and we taste jubilation
as the world quietly whispers
as He is setting things right

if you need me, I'll be there
lying down in greenest pastures
I'll be there,
beside silent and still waters

I'll be there
singing in foreign languages
odes and sunlit sonnets
to the one who makes all things new

as He is making me new.

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