I look out on green-blue seas
with unlimited possibilities.
Almost all of it unknowable, hidden
and awaiting a future forbidden
to be seen, but it will always find you
and surprise you with something new.

For we a product of the past,
the ice flows which didn’t last
the evolution of life, love, friends
will determine where infinity begins
and the fullness of life ends for we
are part of this green-blue sea.

This week I watched a documentary about J. R. R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and more) and Lewis Carroll (The Chronicles of Narnia and much more) and the essence of myth, imagination, and faith from a dinner meeting hosted by Hugo Dyson they had in September 1931…. and so it occurred to me that…

We are interesting creatures
for we, as the word suggests, are
a product of creation, and yet
we also create.

We use the words and observations
permitted by our creator to
discover truths we not just
deduce but also feel.

We, as sub-creators, can represent
these truths in art, poetry, mythology,
fed by god-inspired imagination
as creative art.

It is with a leap of faith that we
suppress our cynical, rational
selves to imagine stories,
music, art and more.

And in so doing, we may
worship our creator
through faith to imagination
to sub-create in this world.

Indeed, we are infinitely
interesting creatures… and
Tolkien, and Lewis were some
of the most interesting of all of us.

… and created some most interesting creatures
which really represented the nature of us all!

A man of few words
may be a dam holding
back a roaring flood.

If there be one thing
to say, then say it
simply.

If there be a thousand
things to say, then
think instead,

of a single sentence
punctuated with quiet
which speaks like a roar.

Flying free, sharing the wind
with the birds of the sky,
experiencing updrafts and
downdrafts, responses always
a bit late and often overplayed
until the kite of youthfulness
is caught by the tree of life
so to become part of new
life experience, and the branches
binding it to its place, resist
persistent coaxing from
below, and the string will be lost,
the connection severed
and paper and sticks become
once again a part of the tree
from whence it came, and
from where it will later
inspire future fanciful flights,
of youth, playing in the sky
as a part of life’s great circle.

At night the tiger moves
quiet, restless, no place to go
except here, among the nameless
rivers of time, among the
trees and grasses of the world-
of-words not yet found, searching
for the nameless experience,
the scent of prey undefined
the touch of the sand damp
where the water was just tasted
the experience of just now,
no future, no past, for it
knows not those words, just
the night, it is quiet,
and in silence it waits for
answers to unasked questions.

A quiet sunny afternoon with nothing better to do
than to go fishing in our pond with rod, reel and lure.
To cast and reel, and snag grasses green floating along
with nothing much on my mind, just humming a love song.
The sun flashing off the pond’s ripples from a light breeze,
not caring if the sport succeeds, just being outside, at ease.
When one of the few fish willing to play finally hits my line,
its small and after a moment of fight, it’s over and he’s mine.
There he lies, a tiny thing, with dark eyes, dark green, hook in lip.
He shows no sign of distress as he gives in, no longer trying to flip
and slip back into the water, it just surrenders itself to me,
and now it is me who’s on the hook, for I must set it free.
But the hook is set well, and my eyes are not quite as clear
as they once were, and this hook is stubborn and I now fear
I will kill this partner-in-sport of mine, as I struggle with haste
to free the hook, realizing I’m now vested with this fish’s fate.
Finally, I succeed, releasing him hurriedly, he swims quickly away
into green murky waters so we may play again some sunny day.

It’s communing with the great outdoors, sunshine and fresh air!

It’s pollen and sneezing, only if it’s not raining!

It’s some great exercise, gets you moving!

Yeah, I’ll grant this, especially with a cart, a beer and a cigar!

It’s a drive down the middle, and easy iron to the green in regulation!

In such an unlikely event, it is an ugly lip-out on the third putt for a double bogey!

It’s civilized, you keep your own score, and when the unfortunate occurs you penalize yourself!

Then why do the pencils have erasers?

You just need some new clubs and maybe lessons!

And a thousand dollars later I’ll be no better than I am now!

The best golf lesson is simple!  Just think Lower!

What do you mean Lower – lower my hands?

No your expectations!

Change comes to one and to all
with or without plans, often
imposed by a sudden fall.

Suddenness matters most
as the butter-side hits the
floor of your juggled toast.

For the disaster, or so it seems
does impinge upon your
breakfast-perfect dreams.

It could be worse, you finally observe,
as it was prior to applying the last of the jam,
a fortune you may hardly deserve.

And so you adapt to life’s re-arranges
and the morning will dawn anew, while
you find lovely breakfast-option changes.

… for change comes to one and all.

Migrating in great chevron formations, birds
flying North speak of the coming summer in
destinations grounded in collective memories.
What of hope or home, or future are they aware?
What do they say to the ones who never leave?

Are we not on the move too, if not in fact, but
In our hearts and minds of exploration
and in the vessels of the words read and heard?

But to where and to what purpose do we go, and
what do we say to the ones who never leave?