Rowing through ponds, up quiet streams and navigating through hidden currents just to get to that one corner where the moonshine pours down upon the water in a way that gets the fish a-jumpin for a bite to eat! Still hours, reflection on character and trait. Laughing to yourself at memories tucked away into the folds of the mind. Admiring the Beauty of the night, the peaceful serene situation it sets. Jus chillin. The world was left back about two creek bends and a quarter mile of steady rowing. Here. Off in the backwoods, south of worries and a bit north of stress…yeah this is good fishing.
Moon moves across the sky, takes a quick peak into the clouds as they drift—lofty in flight…stars dancing soft sifting as the water kisses against the bank and rocks rhythm into the boat. Scenic Romancing. Mental preoccupations flow with the current, sent adrift. Baiting the hook, winding up, stretching back and letting it all Fly….the last leaves falling off the trees along the bank; drifting, floating, a whirl and spin—clean landing and a ripple of applause spreads across the sight…what a peaceful perusing night. Wandering through the mind as the stream tugs gently on the line. Reflection, the moon in the pond.
Young again, running into things, tied towels become superhero capes. Back when broccoli, carrots and lettuce (hell, anything green or healthy) was nothing more than rabbit food. Flowing streams sing the tune of nostalgia.
Creaking eerie, rusty round the seams
Heavy, yet it swings open with ease
I’ve been here before, still
This seems estranged
Only remember vague, through opaque haze
Dusty hands from pushing the door
Rub them off into heavy denim
Thas what they are for
Stepping in, this is one
I’ve been here before…
The walls covered in papers and news clippings
All dusty and yellowed by stale air
A portrait against the wall, resting in the corner of the room
Like, I know her before yet somehow forgot
Her look returns the same sentiment
Misplaced yet not lost…
Dark rosy cheeks crest the ends of her smile
She moves me
A rare elegance…
It’s a pity she has forgotten
And even more so that I’ve neglected to remember
A chest…next to the portrait…
Inside there is…
Maps rest upon the desk settled into the opposite side of the room
Shelves full of books
Heavy, hard-bound books
An unfinished letter
The ink is still wet
HOWL…a wolf cries under the moon
“Into the night I send my sights in hope that one day this sorrow takes flight.
With passion to love, I care not to hate/ still often com times that I question my soul’s eternal fate.
Tonight there is no moon to sing my heart swoon/ as my heart wishes to dance a divine sweet romance.
As the howl that which lands chills to your veins/ I pray to the stars and call to the night with surrender of pains.
This night my soul takes wings to escape its capture in cage/yea though until its release it sings and drums to subdue epic rage.
Into the night.”
HOWL…again, this time he brings you back,
Back on the creek where the fishing is good…
no tug, jus a nibble
What a Beautiful Night