Crossing that bridge

Turgid water and the spume over rocks flies face up to the sun, sparkling in droplets into the verdant banks

My thoughts race and I follow the stream , ankle deep the cold numbing my sense of touch. Feeling Rock bottom feeling the rush.

The stream is trout deep and dappled by the shingle . It crawls to its edge to lap gently . My pace slows and I feel the tug of the still eager current.

Skin tingles. The shadows mingle . The canopy above filters sunlit  chlorophyll. And I'm at peace. Thoughts stillled

Stones disturb the flow and give voice to the water which fills, the silence. I collect my muse and give voice. My heart spills over the gurgling rills.

The bridge is reached and reaches the span.

Only a whisper is heard in the trees as the surface of the stream responds to a soft breeze. I breathe.

A place to stop. To think . To express. To move on from here. Leave the current and the winding course of imagination and find solid ground.

Leaving

The wind whips up from the valley floor

And more leaves fall

More than before

I was never this happy or lost

Not since the cherry blossom fell

And I counted each flower as if to tell

How long the spring would last

Then I saw you

As if the whole of nature were a door

Don't leave me to the chill wind

And fallen leaves

Let me see your smiling eyes once more.

Joe August 2017

Cornflower

I wondered what it would be like to wear you with pride

Buttoned close over my heart

With all the others

Ready and blue

To tell of true love

Swaying amid the grasses

The theme of every song

To know love and to keep love

Chase with abandon

Find with purpose

Emblem of the eternal gift

Waking to the dream

Whispering at the stream.

Joe August 2017

Building friendship

Friendship is unfinished business

Some build their castle and keep building

Some of us got caught in the rubble;

Of collapse and trouble.

Others will reach for the sky

And believe every lie.

Some of us just Burst the bubble.

The friendship of fools is a gold rush

A prospecting

Collecting a coiterie

A menagerie of well wishers and prospective partners.

Eggs in one basket are soon dropped and broken.

I hang on to every word spoken

Look for an opening and hope beyond hoping.

Rejected yet again or maybe even simply ignored. Yes the friendship of fools leaves your best intentions floored.

Don't close the door , just yet.

Room for one more, you bet.

True friendship began when I stopped making a plan.

Look around;

What you see is what you get.

Joe Morriss, storefield northants, 5.8.2017

Golden Leaves - all hallows eve

Golden Leaves - all hallows eve

These golden leaves
On all the trees
Make me wonder
If we'll ever see
The Kingdom come
And then we'll run
With golden crowns into the sun.

The gentle breeze
That stirs those leaves
Soothes my mind and memories
Of things we've done
And all the fun
We had while tales around us spun

This is the eve
Of Saints' reprieve
Before their bright eternity
All pain has gone
With God the son
As Christ the risen saviour comes.

Wanna you

I wanna grow real old with you and catch all of your fleas. Leave the gas on scald the cat and lose all of our keys.

I wanna do what I'm told by you. Then blatantly disobey. Then pretend I'm deaf as mutton Jeff and do it anyway

I wanna run the race with you and get real far ahead. I wanna stay at home with you and curl up snug in bed.

I wanna say so much to you. But so much has been said. So I hope you won't be troubled if I leave this kiss instead. X

The other side

It was the falling which called my attention.
The silhouetted branches gradually devoid of cover
Stark black barren. Slick with recent rains and shaking like cold veins in the morning sun

The other side was green and great and still crowned with verdant glory.
Goldening in the misty autumn

Season of falling and failing the last threads of life still clinging like web to the branch collecting dew.

I think of you. As age approaches.
Your senses more ripe and less attuned
Misty the eye and moist. Takes sharp edges off sight and loves what it sees as seasoned memory pours through the veil.

I will lose you and it will be like the cracking of a brittle twig. Fit for the earth not flight. Not a perch for deaths dark birds.  But for now you still have that other side, the one that carried so much fruit and yielded so much joy.

The sun rises in your leafy branches and you shake of the rainy breeze. Just another winter sneeze. Don't think too hard about the other side.

Joe Morriss
Inspired by Aidan Ashby's morning tree.
October 2016