If you live in the present,
You are a soul that has
Chosen the crest of the wave.
Hello, Fellow Crestor.
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Oo-oh Freedom......Oo-oh Freedom.........
I'm all for freedom!
Freedom of the brain!
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'When I am dead, my Dearest, sing no sad song for me.........'
No! That's not what I meant to say (that old poem from my youth) .......
I meant to say, When I am dead and on the other side.........
I hope I don't make a mistake, and
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I have been such a follower
In my life
If shown a picture book, of birds, hidden
In a leafy tree-top,
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Purple, as in flowers,
Has an after image of blue
Such that, spreading out from petunia,
One has to check,
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Where do the butterflies hide in a storm?
What do the hummingbirds do in high winds?
And why do I ponder on victims?
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I'm needing to write
In praise of the
Common squirrel.
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My mother, whose rhythms were so regular
That she knew what day I'd be born,
Said I beat her by half an hour;
I was in such a hurry!
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As a small child my father
Showed me the pretty lights of
The big city
As we drove home at night.
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