FootprintsintheWind.com

What’s the oldest story you remember? That’s the work of ancestors.

:- Doug.

What are the works of dying?

:- Doug.

By his fruit shall you know him—children in cages, violence, divisions. See his contorted face, hear his brutal words.

:- Doug.

ancestors is
flowing

:- Doug.

A story is not written—is not told—does not happen—once for all time.

A story starts
when breath becomes air

:- Doug.

going around the corner
there it was
lighter than the lightest green
why’s this poem?
in the pot to feed
twenty-seven teenage boys
a hint of a hint of cayenne

:- Doug.

The soul is led and spirit too
by delicious puzzlements
thing to noodle and unravel
on its own so to story
on some sunny snowy day

:- Doug.

Lift your eyes
above the words
and see

:- Doug.

Just because he is so kind and gentle
does not mean you ought his face
bludgeon

:- Doug.

Been there, done that means you can watch more, see more.

:- Doug.

If you see today what you saw yesterday, how observant are you?

:- Doug.

Did you lose your sense of humor? Want me to help you look for it?

:- Doug.

Getting old
Growing sick
Natural

:- Doug.

We don’t say
I’m not going to die
We ever say, Later

:- Doug.

Writing for completeness
and yet there’s ever more to add
cast upon compost the rose yet grows

:- Doug.

Today the pressure feels higher, can still be spiritual. Spiritual triage, at least.

:- Doug.

Adventure, the adventure of the living of this life, is a privilege, and I am grateful.

:- Doug.

make meaning or find it
not way but meaning is the thing

:- Doug.

Beyond wisdom
poets—you and I—
are making meaning

:- Doug.

The emperor has no sense. His advisers don’t.

:- Doug.

For what we do not see
am I greedy? Or wanting
with them to meet
that we both
be turned?

:- Doug.

What’s the object of dying? The work?

:- Doug.

Softly, gently.

:- Doug.