Final Showdown

A figure stands sentry bathed in moonlight,

It’s a crescent moon;

So the light is not as bright as on some nights,

Frozen marshes span out to either side of him,

With piercing winds whipping and buffeting what little clothing he has on,

Leaving bare skin numb,

Pain follows,

As the cold absorbs into flesh,

Beginning from feet and head,

In an inexorable journey,

To meet in the middle;

A pincer movement,

Bringing terminal decline to the host at reunion,

What spell is this sentry under,

To permit this grim inevitability?

Perhaps, nothing;

Perhaps, everything;

For, journey’s end is always ugly,

And it is your character that denotes,

How you will face the final showdown.

First Days of Spring

First day,

I felt the warm sun on my face,

Didn’t have to wear a overcoat,

Heard more ‘g’d mornings’ than I had been accustomed to,

Saw that the flower buds were peaking, readying to flower ‘n’ bloom,

Heard the birdsong of the morning more vividly than ever,

Noticed that I could watch the female form walk in various stages of undress, all day long;

Had to remind myself to act my age and not stare, more than a handful of times;

Spring does literally put a spring in everyone’s step;

Absence, obviously, makes the heart grown fonder;

And now that the sun has returned home from its winter wars in the south (as it usually does this time of the year),

We have more than the solitary letters home that kept our spirits up through the long winter months;

The northern hemisphere is about to turn en mass into a cult of sun worshippers,

For the next five months at least, before this faithful soldier goes off to war yet again,

When we’ll have only it’s irregular letters to keep us company over the cold winter months once more;

So, enjoy the view while you can,

Get out there:

Play, be merry, and catch-up on all the to-dos;

For everything is temporary,

And in these unpredictably inclement times (termed variously, as el nino, climate change, et al),

You never know if and when the sun may be recalled to the war front early.


Wrestling with puzzles while others sleep,

Finding solutions to problems that defeat daylight’s turn of the wheel,

For what pre-occupies are not unresolveable problems,

But far simpler questions involving choices, of degree and shades of varying options,

Courtesy of a seemingly unending revolving door of problems;

Meaning nothing to some and even less to others,

With no measurable impact on the overall tally of good or ill, I have no doubt;

But for the conscientious soul,

They are a constant preoccupation and a occupational hazard;

For, we all fall into one of two categories:

Those who don’t give a damn and those that do;

And until this constant flow hardens me beyond recognition, I find myself constantly falling into the latter;

What about you?


Matchstick men with heads aflame,

Trailing smoke signals all over the place,

Some folk choose to burnout rather than fade away, they say;

When these hotheads get together though,

You best steer well clear;

For the bonfire that ensues;

Will engulf those who tread near willingly and bystander alike;

For fanatics come in all shapes and hardly ever die alone;

As misery loves company,

So, if you have any choice in it, my friend:

Rush in haste if you must,

But, be equally prepared to repent at leisure;

For, they also say: life is not a sprint, but a marathon;

You have more time to reflect on what you’ve done (or not) than the actual doing takes.

Tree of Life

I will make myself stronger;

To weather storms;

Become the tree of life itself if I must;

To give you shelter and respite,

An opportunity to grow in relative freedom;

As my parents and loved ones did for me

No life is completely free of traumas my child,

The objective is to show you what is possible than not,

So that you may one day provide shelter to those who need it,

Then look out yonder,

At the forrest of your forefathers,

And, not be afraid to set down your own roots,

To begin the difficult task of building and nurturing,

A forrest of your very own.