Smoke-Music

 

Sometimes

I take  smoke-music

With my changing landscapes;

Melodies seamlessly stitching

History and present paths

Together.

 

Sometimes

I prefer simple- silence

For my reflections;

It helps me

Put the clouds back

Where they belong.

That Wind.

World wide winds are stirring again,

About to blow the sun and

The full weight of history

Around my fragile pin again.

Fresh-caught fish for supper,

Pine cones for the fire,

Stones on a cairn

For the future.

That wind is

Getting stronger.