Growing Season

As the sun goes round where will it leave you in what is a perfect day when it would come
How good must good be what bad do you see
There is going to be snow you know it will come so

Of all the possible futures they're just not here right now
Down the avenues of your mind on a little walk though your head
Let me ask you this as you answer that a memory seed to grow

In harvest time for me
What is it now I see
When will it be done
And where come from

He could not speak his words and could only speak those words
Just so they would know the story only so he had told his telling
He and they were done with him for they all heard it so well

There's nothing to me I'm what you make me do
These words I don't know they are not mine I have no control
They are not what I want to hear but what I be

The story starts to take form in we
But it shall not last long come out and leave from me

The Same Days

She took him in several different ways simple confusion we all can understand
I wish you well with your spoils as I am well and take my toils
I asked her which sun she liked better, she shrugged, " I haven't seen enough to tell"

I am only a small fool that will never do anyone harm; I have no use for many things
A ruse of a muse on the ground floor where falling down is only a matter of height

Do you hear his song? No longer on paper listen it is the breeze

The amazement of resonance no one is taught that there is so much more than ever thought
Thought I knew where I was going and the wonders never care and paths never end
Smoke and the sun shines can you see it there as I say it here

And the road seems to forever be leading me to the end where I should be
Where I can no longer I myself to find ourselves alone and one
Standing upright the Extravagant Giant lost in this notion of time as confused as sustained

The Extravagant Giant Lumbers Forth

I will write until it is written and then I will be done with them
In any direction but one in a place of now
Anything you'd like to share do you think before you care

This will be finished very quickly and then where will we all go
It was not thought all the way through
Why would it finish now that's not what we did then

This will be finished very quickly we shall be gone soon enough
Well I fell much better now I feel good somehow
That little spider on the wall is welcome to this room an it doesn't seem to mind if I hang out too

Where everything fits content to be small where nothing needs a great size in a universe complete
It is freedom you have and love that you do why choose to blame
Will it stop the rain or take your pain? Your just wet nothing to regret

Attepting to do every perfect nothing one time and the simple way
And I would be finished enough

Euro Rail

There was a simple essence to the ticket to the continent.
Arrive downtown in the main station, walk around, find something stay
Find nothing go there is a train late to somewhere arrives somewhere early

They run on time generally and are warm to my experience
Often slept into Germany somewhere wake eat and return to more interesting places
Never really looked to find things there, Stephi Graf on outdoor televisions at the station
Outside the glass station a cathedral that towers exactly to the heavens above
I wasn't always sure where I was traveling alone

One positive if the Euro ends: the station beggars will once again be able to tell you where you are
As need would have them ask for the right currency if coins are not exchanged again

Opening Day

They say the deer has no natural predator left in Ohio.  I  have seen some in Pennsylvania.  What else would you call a person that could pierce the heart of a deer at 200 yards on a dead run.  A humanitarian and a natural predator.

Maybe it is because of the shot guns they use in Ohio; I don't know never hunted the woods.  The deer have changed I can tell you that.  When I was twelve it was expected to see one buck with several hundred doe and on multiple occasions.  At thirteen they stopped.  Ran across fifty; never saw group bigger than nine since.

That may be just a round number, but a good round number.  Hunted many years and have not hunted in many years.  Never served the ultimate function, but never wavered in the trail.  The last years either they have joined me here in the city or I have begun to notice them.

I drive the city as I once walked the woods.  I know their schedule only watch for them when they would be out and about.  Many things have changed in this world, but not so much the deer's daily schedule.  If you don't know deer maybe best way to explain is that they make many beds.  Most active in the morning and evening.

You know why the farmers stopped the hunter: they were seen as lazy.  A postmodern child could be understood to suppose as has been shown that it was easier.  Not a topic for opening day.  In Pennsylvania its a holiday and the schools close;  like a big government rally in eastern Europe.

Purpose Comes to Light

I'm writing a story of childhood tonight
Not Starting out to remind myself
That purpose found my burden light
Knowing my past my future bright
It's nice to bring memories from the shelf

I started out with no plan set now to be let

Preplated Freedom

Have you ever tasted Freedom
Walked down a blind path
A hidden drive outta sight
Pick berries in any moon light
Glimpsed happiness with no cash
Had no instant credit kingdom

Freedom has no taste for me
A deep breath that's all mine
I thought there was more to see
but now that's just fine

Roses find sun light in our field
Rains upon our ground find pools

There is so little time to comfort her
So many fashions to lose their style

What will become of the whimsical spirit?