Wanting Relief

Last night I listened to the winds howl in melody

seems they were speaking, warning of a parody.

So quickly our lives, my own, grooves self importance

wanting only to observe, less patience more chance.


I speak in my head a constant life of simple romance

that sort that would suggest our lives live in a trance.

The famous writers who could travel in love’s pain

a prowess with words, retelling always the reader’s gain.


I wondered how long it might be in this state I remain

whereby my actions would prevent me feeling the rain.

Where simply do we go when the winds to pull us under

An impossibility, our minds will not be want of wander.


Last night I listened to the winds howl their melody,

A certain peace is Her vibrant reminder the ready.

© Thom Amundsen 4/2020

Foliage Hidden

For they do sing in suggestive breeze,

still discreet in foliage

their lives depend on a travel,

readying swift reply to the wind.


Watch out your windows such

is preparation of a Creator,

grace upon our planted wilderness.

An imagined love in autumn


Sweater in hand time for a walk

In the quiet air of an arid migration.

© Thom Amundsen 2019

What Storms Follow


Rains melt the landscape

while I wonder,

I am curious to know

what is it that lies outside of my reach,

just beyond the grasp of my

human condition,

that piece that comes as love

when a torrential storm of reality,

that gift of reckoning,

moment by moment when we do

suddenly realize

our time has reached that pinnacle,

when a choice be made,

when we altogether but alone,

must take another journey,

one of a humiliating theme,

that one,

we look inside our mirror tonight,

and haven’t a choice,

the change must begin,

much like after the storm,

the raging winds do eventually,


leaving ourselves

to pick up the fragments of our lives,

and continue the sojourn,

that is,

defining our soul

my soul,

yes to the gentle breeze.

Wild Skies

Feel life brisk

High pressure settle in

Crisp, autumn morning

With blasts

Draping serious skies

Winter’s scorn is upon us all

A heaviness basks in air

Time now

Time asks for preparation


When once we were alone …


Quiet morning  sun piques behind

Wandering winds

Haunting as the settling sky

Corrals summer’s eve

While we wait upon

A long and slow March

The dusty road turns cold …


The winds of autumn reckoning

Each season’s sweet serenity