Roger explores town

there is a balm…

in spring

with a boy on a balance bike

in village with puddles and mud

when he pushes so fast and then

glides through feet in the air

to other side

unhindered

daring

free

clear voice up to sky

so keep pushing forward

to the next one

and the next one

and the next one

because it never gets old

there is a balm

Phil

practical close-cropped hair

above welcoming laugh

faith lived in doing

serving tables

frying rollkuchen

shaping and guiding young lives

around template of truth

crafting lyrics and melody

into songs of smiles and tears

carefully shaping resonant wood

with curved symmetry

instrumental in creating

family

that sings together the tune

of close-cropped servanthood  

Roger explores the English Gardens

hands splayed on old felled trunk

happy unguarded smile

for he’s found his spot away from

wedding ado

that connects with the life of the warm earth

under bare feet

who cares about

little button up shirt

suspenders and bow tie

so formal in the midst of this

green and gnarled brown nature

bright face and random blond curls

one with this garden

always

Lisa; pastor

a trip to the desert

barren

dry

heat reaching into

marrow

to live vertically

looking up in virtual vision

of the Other

ready to leave behind

aching trappings

of layered life

and then journey back

to begin again

new horizontal life

arms outstretched

to the world

this

this was pastoring not with words

or gestures

but with a very public human life

showing

the way and the Way

for us

and always

always

with eyes that engage

smile that warms

and hands that bless with a touch

Monk

there’s

someone coming this way dark

coat flapping wind

stride so confident

round sunglasses and no brim hat

I meet him and we walk

along seawall gulls

calling    landing

wings battling breeze

his voice sand and gravel punctures

holes in thick air

tells of surprising swell

of ocean

rogue waves crashing

and the path that we walk

shadows lengthening

and the risks we all must take

coats like wings flying 

Keats

when I think of you

it is 1818 and you are ambling

Scottish lochs and crags with Brown

and marvelling at truth you see in

silver waterfalls and

green isles

shimmering in mist

stepping ancient paths

stick in hand

just twenty-two and yet so set

on this journey of yours

to write great verses

to create beauty rivalling

the cliffs of Helm Craig

did you know that this would be your

one

great adventure

two weeks of twenty miles a day

past the homes of Wordsworth and Burns

feet touching timeless

sure set earth

from lowlands to highlands

and your mind gleaning romantic

light

to set down

your young timeless stamp on the  

truth/beauty

of the ages?

sergeant-at-arms

marble pillar standing immovable

supporting commons structure

center of our democracy

and in background

wooden archways and stairs

climbing to halls of power

Vickers strides this hallway

black suit jacket                open

identity tag around neck identifying

sergeant-at-arms

what does that mean     anyway

in this day and age of body guards

and security cameras

face set in duty mode

grey hair

tousled from deadly action          just seconds before

and in right hand

still         warm    gun

gripped tightly pointed

at marble floor

man of deep resolve

a well reaching down to

depths of decency and

now lives with

the constant sensation of that

warm gun

as he passes bullet-grazed pillar

David Amram - 1976

you adopted us

sisters and brothers  

french horn

penny whistle

drums  

long curly hair t-shirt adidas

vibrating energy exuding

all for the music

and the rightness of the moment  

adopting all folk

and all tradition  

synthing symphonic humanity

creating 

and we followed

clapping

singing

dancing

seeing new possibilities

when we take down fences

and become family

Steve Forbert - 2005

in this shady grove

that is not shady

sun bearing on bare skin

intense July  

sound bleeding from other stages bothers him

has to adjust his key to match  

stands stage alone

white shirt open at collar

signature curls

harmonica and

scratched scuffed guitar 

voice

not really a voice

a rasp that scrapes at the melodies  

singing

good worlds are hard to find  

this round patch of windless prairie

surrounded by Manitoba woods

is world now  

intense brain

connects

to our brains

 

each inner world merging into

community of worlds

rasping along

in one orbit

around sun

Leon Redbone - 1975

we thought we saw you then

timeless

mystery voice

a refined growl  

glasseshatmoustache

your costume

hiding a boy from Cyprus

who       somehow

found a soul in

ragtime religion  

and we believed

 

stood and

shouted and

cheered and

clapped  

until you finally reappeared

only to light an exploding cigar

creating a legend exploding in our

perceived

timeless mystic memories