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ROCK ME
Man, I took the time to get high today, physically high, that is.
Well, alright, I got a mental rush from being so high. Does that make any sense? Being two hundred feet over the top of a river on a bluff will give you an adrenaline rush, trust me. That is where I was, communing with nature for a bit. Way down below, and I do mean way down my river flowed peacefully along. Ok, it’s God’s river, but I’m using it for a while so leave me be. Something about natural height makes me aware of all things good. You know, John Denver’s ‘Rocky Mountain High’? He isn’t wrong; that kind of high is addicting. I love it. Wrote me a poem dedicated to a natural high. I hope you like it.
ROCK ME
Looking at water two hundred feet down,
People float by yelling, can’t hear a sound.
Canoes all big sticks, floaters, tiny ants,
From this craggy perch, see all in one glance.
Up high on this cliff-face, head’s in the clouds,
Communing with nature, not noisy crowds.
Rocks, trees, and nature, me in the middle,
Talking with drunks, don’t give a fiddle.
And people they ask me, aren’t you ever bored?
Would you become tired at work of the Lord?
These plants, those creatures, all crafted by hand,
Ask me no questions; I’m part of this land.
River below, sunny blue skies above,
If such sights bore, you have never felt love.
Talk to the trees, converse with quiet stone,
It’s crowded up here; I’m never alone.
Swing me in this cradle, sing lovely song,
Trees nodding with happy birds sing along.
Grass grows up around me; I really don’t care,
Rock me for ages, in wonderland fair.
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I am writing number two in my series of marital discord blogs and poems.
Marital disharmony came to mind as I walked up the drive the other night.
Big game today, or every day for us patriots.
A short 55 years have passed since last I shot myself, seems like only yesterday.
I’ve always been a dog man, oh don’t get me wrong, cats are ok but they just aren’t loyal like a dog, so we had dogs.
A man in church with my wife listened to the sermon and remarked how he guessed we are all “second string angels.”
I’m full up on taking crap and keeping my mouth shut.
My fanciful love story, don’t you love this this time of year!
For some reason, I started thinking about a chicken in the hen-house.
My mind works in devious fashion sometimes, and this one came out at my wife’s request.