THE RESONANCE OF TREES

resonnaceRemembering my Inner Shaman

The resonance of trees
sensual feeling of the breeze
a time frame slower than
my senses can perceive

There’s this unseen hum, now
near my inner ear
something I can hardly sense,
it seems so distinct and clear

All around these miracles
beyond the limits of my senses
as I try to know the sense of it
within my own so small lens –

but this resonance of trees today
inviting me to share,
to take my animated presence
where the trees cannot dare

To feel within this resonance
1,000 images passing me by

So, I set the metronome
so very very low.
this resonance and
so slow drum beat,
so much lower
than I know

Is it real?
Ask the trees
if this is so –

This resonance of trees
as I walk now with the breeze
in this time frame slower than
my senses can perceive

HEART SPIRIT – Freeing our Poetic Voice @ Amazon

On the Fringe

2-Strawberry Moon

ON THE FRINGE

living on the fringe
while animals and plants die
stewardship dies too

I’m a person of questions, and wish I had
some solutions other than what I have.
Where is our collective ethos getting us, these days?

#climatereality

EVENING DUSK

Raven

Walking downtown at dusk
in the pedestrian silence,
except for the monotonous beat and hum
of a traffic signal.

Across the street
there are old restored buildings,
looking empty inside,
though maybe full
of crafted clay mannequins
from an enterprising sculptor.

Occasional real passers by
stare at their hand held devices
or listen to perfected music
on their headphones.

Have these devices
in the shadows
like a stealthy thief
stolen our imagination,
our capacity to hum or whistle
our own song,
experience surrounding nature,
the feeling of the wind, or
the colors of the sunset?

Are they like Poe’s Raven
knocking at the chamber
of your heart,
seeking admittance?

Don’t admit them.
Be aware!

RICHARD EVAN MACKAY

HOME IS WHERE MY BEING IS

Beside Still Water

Oh, you’re a holiday
Oh, you’re a holiday
Now it’s my turn to say
and I say, “You’re a holiday.”
—————— the Bee Gees

Holiday inns and ways
to escape
the core of my being
the life in my days.

There’s dialogue with others.
There’s hope midst despair.
There’s love in my living
Not getting stuck in repair.

So, I’m singing my song
Painting my poem
There’s love in my living
when I am being home.

RICHARD EVAN MACKAY