Ten Hills Home

for the few, the unknown

for the few, the unknown,
i write these songs and chant these simple prayers,
that the silence might have voice;
the voice of time slipping into the abyss
beyond the path that leads the final ten hills home.

5/19/1996

at water's edge

there is a moment that,

having traveled beyond the speed of thought,

a fleeting breeze will stir the ash awake.

and the memory of that time remains

to reflect upon at water's edge.

how is yesterday's sand,

its footprints and its castles,

always smoothed by morning?

2/8/1996

sounds in the wood

i was the sound

that broke the quiet of the morning

sunlight just beginning

to filter through the trees stirring with the wind

campfire crackling

coffee water boiling

ground squirrels scuttering through the brush

then the whole forest comes alive

to the sound that broke the quiet

i sip my coffee

as the orchestra tunes

7/3/1993

deserted beach

mine were the only footprints in the sand

as i walked by the sea, listening,

waiting, 

wondering.

distant memories, like wisps of smoke,

appeared and as quickly escaped;

songs from other lives, other dreams.

my tears mingled with the sea

as i looked into the past,

considering the consequences of paths not taken

and thoughts unspoken, 

bidden farewell, farewell.

footprints in the sand washed away.

3/2/1996