Lost Moments

In our lives we have many experiences

travails of innocence no one

has an answer to suggest an outcome

only hitch on,

grab a strand of burlap,

feel the dust build underneath our psyche

and ride on.

~

I’ve always enjoyed the horizon

seeing wheat fields flowing in an autumn breeze,

the fresh blossoms of a rainy morning aftermath,

often my favorite moments

caught in the rain

soaked to the bone

fresh soup and a warm fire

in the evening lull.

~

On occasion I recall that summer afternoon,

we walked in our usual path,

to a sort of ‘city’ glen above John Muir,

where there would be

an eventual opening in the brush,

we would lay there

act like a couple in love

no one’s eyes except our own.

~

This one time,

and this would be my definition of loss,

I would nap in that moment,

and did I in the afternoon sun

wake shortly there after

and she would be gone,

I would then stand only to notice her figure

meandering into the park,

having left this moment

behind.

~

I remember not knowing what to do,

far too distant would a shout of name

turn your head,

either distance or time

would cause her, might, continue forward

regardless.

~

That was the message going through my mind.

I hurried to try to catch up,

to not lose this moment.

~

We do eventually, in time find ourselves to be on course,

yet still could we already know some concept of remorse.


© Thom Amundsen 5/2021

The Reason We Dream

I used to believe we could go on forever,

that afternoon in the park

when he drew his graphite vision

the first holocraft on a hot sunny day

the three of us

in Memorial park

looking up in the sky with awe,

one of us with the bong in our hands

another – a slow exhale into the summer horizon.

.

We were just kids, snotty, arrogant, naive

to the world around us,

yet as long as we had each other,

the laughs would remain,

though with time,

that original notion in our heads

became Orwellian

while the years did pass,

we do, will I, would I, we wonder

upon each other’s lives.

.

Today the craft does exist

fifty years later of course,

yet our imagination can still

redefine

its own spectacular outtake

on society’s thrills and ills

all of which

we are told over and over again,

’this human condition stuff,

it will set you free.’

.

Next time you are in the woods

take a moment to pause

think a bit on me and my  buddies

we all carry the same weight.


© Thom Amundsen 5/2021

We took a walk together, a cool spring

would flow the night’s waves

lapping upon the evening shoreline

soothing our mind as if to suggest a pause.

An appreciation of stars aligning the sky

we might look forever not mattering

such is the cosmic phenomena

sweet, out of reach yet a dangle

of the mind, handling in the balance,

always guiding our soul so mellow to follow

our heart and know it might surely

belong in one another’s waiting arms.

There lay before us a stream would release

all the moments of indecision with only peace.


© Thom Amundsen 4/3/2021

Taking Walks

When once I chose to ruminate

today I will stroll,

a will to know

to see to wonder.

In winter and in summer

we might spring forward with a passion

rather than

fall upon our sword.

There is a certain beauty in that,

to know suddenly the benefit of

a spatial fascination.

Might be the wood?

Perhaps a city street

teeming with populace

while you and I share observation

hands held, our world alive.


©️Thom Amundsen 3/2021

Quiet Roads

The crunch of gravel

kicking up dust

from a distance looks like

Urgency

some need to get away

keeps driving me further.

Wanting to know

yet feeling the distance,

her just out of reach

Philosophy.

Just one more chance

the embodiment

of truth

may lay only ahead

never to be realized

yet likely it is

already known.


©️ Thom Amundsen 1/2021

In Nature’s Realm

A dear friend is walking this morning. She told me that is where she discovers her peace of mind. Our world is not the same as it once was, certainly not the last week. We carry a lot upon our minds. While weathering the storm of Covid and a confusing political atmosphere, we can be thankful that one aspect of our lives remains fluid, abundantly available, and welcoming. Nature is now our refuge, fresh air, beauty and serenity all await our heart with open arms.

The ‘hoar frost’ has been particularly abundant this January. I noticed it on the treetops nearby as the sun rose in a morning fog – a rather spectacular setting I wish I might have caught on camera to use in this observation, but the camera would not have done the moment justice. What it did do though is give me a moment of pause. I imagined my friend on her own walk experiencing the same many miles away, and yet so close because the elements of nature can draw everyone together with meaning. How many times have we watched a full moon from our backyard, knowing someone hundreds of miles or continents away would soon do the very same? We are all in position to know that nature offers a universal release so valuable during such an improbable time in our lives.

This week I have struggled with the events of January 6th. I watched testimonial after testimonial on social networks decry the circumstances, challenge the motivation, denounce and vilify the actions that turned our world visually upside down. Everyone has right to an opinion, I believe that, I always have. Being able to provide an eloquent answer or solution has never been my forte, so I really didn’t know how I wanted to write about this moment in our history. Obviously I do like to write, so this did provide quite a quandary.

So here is my testimonial. I gathered Mak! together this morning, and we took a walk, and just, well, I’m grateful for the fresh air and beauty of a mild winter day. I appreciate the wonder of a morning breeze upon my naked skin. I delight in the startling nature of my dog’s fascination with a crust of snow on the path. I pray that we can all find peace of mind, and know that our heart beats with the same fierce resilience we all might rely upon to carry ourselves through life’s darkest moments.

Close your eyes and breathe.


© Thom Amundsen 1/2021

Finding A Ledge

Oh, I remember

standing in a safe distance

watching them play the risk to the edge,

wondering of the five there,

two over near,

a dozen way beyond the fence,

were any one

vulnerable,

wondering just really curious about the edge,

the immediacy of leaving behind

memory and travels.

~

I’ve stood on many a ledge

decades of indecision,

yet somehow the gravel maintained

my grip,

or I got a call for a dinner reservation,

turned around, walked away,

and the thought drifted off the edge.

~

Have you ever had a sort of quiet peace,

knowing there are those ledges

each of us

can share together,

rather than having to imagine

too much fear,

far too much confusion,

might bring us back upon

some lonely ledge.

~

The truth is,

not every ledge has room for

alone.


© Thom Amundsen 12/2020

Choices

Beautiful morning in pastel skies

lain in silent repose, autumn respite

breathes crisp is the air. Slow emergent eyes

would life alone always feel sweet regret.

How then we nourish a waking desire

the soul in our heart alive less restrain,

for there always this confusion aspire

dreams ahead so absolute quell the rain.

Let swift his own methodic … a Chopin

serenade … to reach high in the heavens.

Varied in nature our eyes could open

while an offering melt away burdens.

Oh now this moment our passion release.

For there is the will of God grant our peace.


©️ Thom Amundsen 12/2020

Sunshine and Coffee

I have these moments

this is a paradigm

a realization of some sort to

hang onto with every fiber

of my state of mind.

Life changes and we hitch on

to find wherever

a landing pad

might let us fall back on our feet

again.

We could fall off the ledge

and yet

always there is a rolling hill

to slow us eventually

in soft memory

of fields of play in our childhood.

Maybe nostalgic,

perhaps hopeful

yet everyday there is a chance for sunlight,

and when that occurs,

a smile may emanate,

a radiance …

we all have dreams.


© Thom Amundsen 11/2020

Something About A Speaker

Remember standing in the rain

feeling the water dampen your cheeks

nose tickling from soft droplets

then your hand wet wiping it all away.

Suddenly then some literary mirage

asks you might reconsider that moment

was the asphalt wet

did your socks get soaked.

Perhaps instead in your picture window

you watched all the kids rain-soaked

dry inside while they stood at the stop

just watching an afternoon slip by

Puddles were left for later on

damp riders caught the bus home.


©️Thom Amundsen 10/2020