Runaway Thoughts



Everywhere I look 

the day tries to get my attention

a bright square of morning light

a silhouette of cup and vase 

bounces off the kitchen cupboard

a streak of light

lines a chair and corners the table

highlighting the contents of a cut crystal vase

light glowing from every window

screaming to get in

to wake me from my sleep

a beam of light throws itself

across the floor with intent

abrupt then fades in attitude

the kitchen, beautiful with life

walls and ceiling surfaced with patinated wood

nothing buckled or splintered from age

if we could only access its memory

turn the tape back with our fingers

and play the days again

topics of conversation would consist of

inches of rain or evening frost

schedule for seeding and field rotation

everyone having a job to fulfill 

feeding chickens, milking the cows

or delighting in the birth of a new calf

politics would not be a circus act

perhaps the walls are speaking

giving their opinions 

technology has taken the lead 

no one can say its totally wrong

perhaps just perhaps, we have grown blinders

tunnel vision for progress

such a rush to inhabit other worlds

while we disregard and disrespect 

the world we have been given

the imperious attitude travels much quicker

monstrous companies rape the earth

then stand on pedestals 

dropping pennies to the poor with one hand

while they rub their fat bellies with the other 


this house of which I am so privileged to sit 

built long ago, of and for a family

it stands tall, straight and proud

built as a home for generations past and future

kitchen of seven doors and two windows
if only they could speak

these walls hold thoughts and time

they grew alive and still they breath


two roosters calling 

their voices can be heard through the walls

wanting the gates to be opened

grains and water to be served

joy rushes through my veins

for their call will make me walk

out across the yard and witness

another sky saying good morning to the sun

and goodnight to the fading moon

june 9 2018


Chickens and Violins

Photo on 2018-04-17 at 11.18 AM #2

little white rooster
stands so proud

throws back his head
and howls real loud

violins play
as feathered bodies
begin to sway

one by one
they all huddle around

not a single beak
producing a frown

no wings flap
no horizontal spread

no bobbing
of  little heads

calm and adoration
the chicks are showing
for this creation

filling the corner
of the coop

standing quiet
no one stoops

eyes and ears
all opened wide

feathered chickens
filled with pride

music adoration
has begun

for these chickens
are having fun

violins and cello base
seems to touch
their inner grace

Photo on 2018-04-17 at 11.26 AM 2

Today’s experiment was to sit in the coop with the chickens and discovering what would come of it, in terms of writing. It’s common for me to have the cd of Angele Dubeau – La Pieta playing on my laptop.
I walked in with my little stool and sat watching them hassle about trying to figure out why I was just sitting since the eggs had already been collected and they were already fed. The smallest is a white guy is a rooster and he started to do his stuff showing me who was really the king of the coop. I decided to video him and his voice and then take photos.
When I flipped my computer open the music started. Within minutes no one made a sound. More came in the coop and they all gathered in the corner with eyes open and heads tall, ears aimed in my direction. They were listening to the music!!! I photographed them countless times and they did not move. Some of their heads began to lower and I realized that they were so relaxed that they were falling asleep. I could not believe it.

I then decided to put on Glen Gould playing some Bach and they slowly started to wake up and start cleaning their feathers. This was fascinating and could be the start of something. Possibly sitting in more chicken coops hehehe. Who knows.

This is what happens when you have storms hitting the countryside.