Storms have formed a passage to a sunny quiet place.. birdsong.. breeze the only sound.. peace inside my face..
Every look tells ‘I know you’.. sense a living eye.. tells me trillion words.. in ‘easy flow’.. when useless dies..
Hear the pimp.. procure a gimp.. those who explore ‘want’.. come in drunken splendor to enhance the mother hunt..
On the edge of meadow space an owl rides a buck.. picture sky joined by a doe two fawns.. a fox and ducks..
Their eyes follow curious.. their way just peace to find.. I perform my soul-game.. let my art slowly unwind..
Day comes in a wonder.. what will I do today?.. will I meet another with music to share and play?..
Weary when the sunset comes.. sundown evening warm.. rest me weary good mind.. carry love to the next storm..
Dream caress away floats stress.. peace comes to my heart.. my mind agrees as peace it sees.. confusion flies apart..
Thought.. ‘in those sixties times.. walking with good friends of yesteryear.. knowing and believing words like ‘free’ and ‘equal’.. we could find no conflict to predict on that peaceful path.. it takes time.. now a black president in a culture where some.. either consciously or without knowledge.. are motivated by ‘race’..
on the other side of that equation are the young.. (share my joy).. and sense of accomplishment after decades of work and purpose.. dedication that was all-consuming for some.. watching those who ignore the needs of ‘living rights’ ignored in guilt and avarice..
watching television I saw speaking.. with no indication of prompts.. pressure or script..
13 children in ten groups.. they defined ‘race’ as a speed contest.. only two asked if it had to do with ‘nationality’.. and all the years came to one second.. the one that says..
‘it is done.. it is working’..