Nostalgia, just because...

Like Joe Biden, everything is making less and less sense. Seesawing between a simpering cry-baby and a Sioux chief, he seems eager to straddle a horse and ride into the battlefield. Fortunately, he hasn't mistaken Kamala Harris for a horse yet. Donald Trump rattles on, lying through his teeth, yet winning more points and accolades for his sheer confidence.

Zelensky and Putin have fused into one. A senile white man is identifying himself with a black African American woman. Everyone
is nervous. The world is trying to keep pace with this sudden spur in idiocy. Some are taking to streets, shouting slogans, vandalizing. It is their way to contain the prevailing madness.

I am where I am, was, would be...caught in the still point of the turning universe. Day slips through me. Night covers me, washes over my dreams and drags me to the perception of a new dawn. Like a shadow, I chase the amorphous blobs of light which come in the form of myriad memories. Here are a few from Alaska Hwy:


On the shores of Muncho Lake, Rocky Mountains

a stir of breeze  
a scatter of gold o'er
lapping waters; a
smooth white pebble 
being skipped across 
shimmering widths
shaking up the sleepy
reflections to rude 
awakenings: an explosion 
of shattered granite rolling 
in the blinding blaze of 
widening ripples; embers 
of sweet laughter stoking 
the boreal silences


At the Summit Lake

sucked into the blackhole
of a blizzard, swallowed 
by a feat of pointillism, 
contouring in and out 
of the Rockies, silently they 
move heads down, in 
unison with the rhythm
and tilt of the storm:
a pack of wolves on its
nocturnal hunt. jolted by 
the sudden intrusion of
headlights into the canyons
they slink, slide and disappear
a touch-and-go instant 
when in a blinding blizzard
midst the searing isolation 
a vision is granted to the wary
traveler: elusive yet real
savage yet intimate

the spectre of that lone memory
has the heart aching to be once
again on a hunt across the whitening 
night gleaming over the rabble of
mountains, tumultuous and chaotic

and filled with peace as we
move deeper into its heart


Destruction Bay, Yukon Territory 

permafrosted
roads potholed
and car-weary,
loose pebbles 
in a slush of tar 
and bitumen...
rising ranges 
limn the vast
expanse of tundra. 
a snowshoe hare 
sprints across: a 
swoop of sky, a 
whoosh of wings 
and lo there it flies 
clenched in the claws 
of the great eagle

Did you ever dream of flying?



Comments

Annie said…
Simply loved the verses in the blog...gave me a sense of the calm ...contrast with the Faux Chieftain's chaotic approach in the notes above
July 13, 2024 at 2:16 AM
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