Ten-plus deciduous,
mixed with a few evergreens:
more than a dozen
shade-givers are seen
from my back window
in the sunset’s glow.
All wrapped as she plays
improv piano.
Life’s good,
and you grow,
when nature’s understood,
and when you know.
It’s not knowledge gained by some parchmented degree.
It’s what people, plants, air, earth, water, life, daily give to me.
Some say my life was/
confusion. They never saw/
me dream, walking here.
When you’re lying in the clover
on a sunny Spring day,
you need not mull problems over;
the world seems far away.
Take off your shoes;
lay down your blanket or quilt.
Cast off your troubles and blues.
Relax yourself without any guilt.
Let your heels connect to Mother Earth.
Grab the moment to fee the sun shine all around.
Drink deep of harmony, peace, joy, healing, mirth.
Harvest insights deep and profound.
Your’re shadowed cuz your sweetheart nuzzled up to your face?
Enjoy the warmth of it all. You’ll never find a better place!
I’ve concluded that,/
in Nature, there are far more/
than 50 grey shades.
Robins are a sure/
sign of spring, but I’ve never/
seen them flock before.
A friend was going to a Polynesian island with a man she barely knew and his family. She said “I’m a bit afraid. I’m going to be surrounded by strangers, in a foreign country, with a man I don’t know.”
Since she is from Oklahoma, I reminded her what that state’s native son, Will Rogers, said: “A stranger is just a friend I haven’t met yet.”
Then I said:
“When you get to the country, that new place, go, go out onto the beach, or in the woods, or a garden, or even on your balcony. Stand and face the rising or the setting sun, or the stars, or the moon, or the cloudy sky. Face the heavens.
Put your bare feet apart slightly wider than your shoulders. If you’re on the beach, put your feet in the sand, right where the waves spend their last bit of energy, where the seafoam and the wet sand moves beneath your toes and embraces your feet.
Tilt your head back to find the sun or the light or the sky. Feel the air. Close your eyes.
Raise both your arms out sideways, hands toward the light and sky, palms out, fingers spread wide, hands slightly higher than your shoulders, as though you were giving an old friend a huge hug. Breathe deep, in through your mouth and nose, deeply, and feel the vibe, the flow, of the place you are in. Connect, deeply. Open your mouth and OMMMM or YAWP or vocalize in the harmonic you feel.
As you feel the air, the wind, sense the scents, maybe wrap your arms gently but firmly around the Spirit you feel, cradle it, embrace it.
There is a certain spirit, harmonic, note in each place. Each place on earth has a unique feel, a special, sacred note. Just as a musical note sounds different played by trombone, piano, organ, clarinet or harmonica, so is the earth’s song the same, yet different in each place.
You can be jarred by it, because it doesn’t feel like where YOU are from, but if you reach out and embrace it, hear it feel it touch it, introduce yourself to it, and be introduced to it, you will connect with it. When you do, that foreign country, that new place, will become part of you, and you will become part of it. You will not be a stranger in a strange land, but an honored and welcome friend the land hadn’t met yet.
And you’ll understand why the natives are smiling.”
The world will always /
look fantastic, even when/
you ask: “Where am I?!?”
The silence /
of my peaceful lakeshore beach walk/
is shattered/
by the roar of their
unmufflered
ATV machine.
Why should I deny them/
their pleasure?/
Because it ain’t natural./
It just ain’t natural.
The following banter between a friend and I is the result of a long-standing peeve of hers that my haiku … aren’t.
DS: First off, happy birthday! Hope it was a good one. Second: THOSE AREN’T HAIKU!
DK: (Moi)
I write these Haiku,/
girlfriend, just for you./
A tisket, a tasket,/
You’ll blow a gasket/
at the poetry I do.
(a limerick).
DS: ok…I like that one, but c’mon…you’re talented! You can do REAL HAIKU. I challenge you.
DK: My birthday called dawn./
Light swept, bright, down mountain slopes./
My life’s before me.
DS: YES YES YES!!
DK: She’ll oft criticize./
I’ve seen ducks’ moist backs before./
She still makes me laugh.
DK: She smiles, radiant./
A bright bouquet reflects her./
Miracles happen.
DK: (do you want me to stop?)
DS: Yes you can stop now. But please keep writing them correctly!
DK: If I stop the flow/
of protoplasmic verse, I fear/
my nucleus’ burst.
DS:NO NO NO!! NOT HAIKU!!
You can’t just put a /
Where you want the line to end.
Thought must be complete.
DK:
I understand that./
My words freeflow like rivers./
They tickle my mind.
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 
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