Glance into The Morning Fog

Watching tree limbs bask in the morning fog

Their own shadows hidden from naked eye

We, the observer might question why

Silence in storms, listen a croaking frog.

 

A world exists speak natural balance

Deep in the wood, horrors of life aside

Humanity breathe where watcher reside

A home is habitat for those who chance.

 

While just beyond the gravel road and pond

Live a lifetime in tragic element

Lost souls, lost loves, confusion we lament

Evil is conflict arisen but fond

 

We mourn sweet soul, tragic is sudden death

In the cool dense fog, take solace in breath.



© Thom Amundsen 2019

Nature Is An Ask

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We wind our humanity across a babbling stream

call it our own of course for we say we belong.

Matters little life of a creature seeming dream

this haven feed silence in their tiny world long.

 

Scrape away life with corrosive blades of pain

the construct of a vision far beyond that of game.

We will build here, our own safe haven our gain

quiet animals survive might we give sweet name.

 

We are that primate race intelligence does mask

hiding ourselves in conclaves of brick and mortar.

Would we anyone be less defensive in this an ask

the land we sweep meant to be our general order.

 

When was it that Man chose simplicity to scrape

this order delight, of a living patterned landscape.

Winter In Minnesota

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Something refreshing a pristine winter.

fresh sunlit¬† snow touch silent runner’s eye

layered across a landscape painted sky,

we might let troubles risen disappear

 

if in this moment, trees become statues

dignified pose, a carnival in ice.

shaded sphere of heat will nearby suffice

light up a runner’s path – dawn guided views

 

We seek knowledge of a heartiness here

Gitchi-Gami, shadows quiet weakness

Inside the brilliance of a lovely dress

soft upon the runners, sweeping past fear.

 

Trails are designed, hold favor to imprint

lasting lover’s scene, a stepping stone stint.

 

 

 

 

When Wonder Whines

I sometimes look at the world we live in,

and I wonder, is it mine to simply understand

or is what there is to believe

as complicated as it might seem.

 

The people I interact with have similar hopes,

we all feel certain the goodness in our hearts

yet how often have we let another walk by

whom later on we wondered their whereabouts.

 

We all wish to be a part of the solution,

tip a feather in my hat, I knew not to wander

yet, later on, sitting in my own quiet comfort

I still begin to wonder, is this really what I mean.

 

I’d like to think the world holds a positive energy,

impossible to measure without that negative strain.

It Is A Beautiful Day

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Beatles


How so do the moods define our day,

we wake to a sunlit morning to defy the odds,

or perhaps we settle in selective pods

stepped away we did from society’s way.

 

A certain lovely attraction is contained in smile

circus acts and normalcy all find sweet balance,

life becomes less of form, tossed beyond chance

might we interact open heartedly in the while.

 

We speak of a world that exists based upon because

spirited within an altruistic desire toward freedom.

Yet somewhere along the way began a kingdom

begetting perhaps – there begs the question of laws.

 

Sans the trifle, sense the spirited nature of release

We shall find resolute Love internalized in peace.

Sunsets

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If in the quiet of a soft moment

We were the Ancient Mariner afloat

Might we wander aimless while then emote

In silent harmony a sweet lament.

 

For is the sea one in quiet recall

This guiding reality, timeless shift

A body where many less gentle rift

Would now decide in earnest Man will fall

 

If in this a sunset we are timeless

Study well the waves remain a current

Drawing history will be their torrent

Leads lives grown fond in conditions careless

 

Oh the gift is deep waters telling time

Mystique as might repeat as does this rhyme

 

 

When A Child Believes

A child is born into a quiet world

Given a slap, a gasp begins their day,

We listen with intent, a cry today

Oh to hold child in hand, love we twirled.

 

We didn’t know about an adventure,

One designed wholly in passage in rites,

Sweet is innocence drawn beyond night lights

Swift shadow seekers in nomenclature

 

A child now moves beyond original sin

Learns adaptation within peer response

Oh to know the true angst of an ensconce

Perpetuate loss, forgiveness within.

 

We might all believe sweet coo of a dove

Designs a child’s world to live inside love.