An Unseeable Thread of Silk

Jim Burnett

Sunbeams pinch through the canopy

Splattering splotches of light

That shine and sparkle

On the path ahead

Pointing the way forward

Pulling my body with them

My mind in turn

Follows freely and easily

Filled with amazement.

Passing through

Crossing over

Softly my feet touch down

Effortlessly

This trail used to be

The path of woe

But no more.

Awakened

Exploring slowly and thoughtfully

Nothing is blurry

There is no hurry nor worry

The inconsequential things

Are sensed anew.

An unseeable thread of silk

Stretching and slightly sagging across the path

Weighted with early morning dew

Cools my lips with its gentle touch

And trails behind me.

I am crossing the finish line

I am alone on the trail

I am just getting started

I feel alive.

For Lindy

Jim Burnett

Standing dead though deeply rooted,

Passing soldiers in their rows, 

Gently stepping souls are sleeping,

Cedar planks pass underfoot.

Cellar holes is sinking slowly,

Tumbling stones on bottom rest,

Mookie padding in no hurry,

Solemn thoughts drift in my head.

Morning Poem

Jim Burnett

Creeping fog above the surface,

Whitecaps lunging shallowed up,

Steadfast mountains ever watching,

Soft clouds drifting fast asleep.

Sea gulls tightly swerve the shoreline,

Herring running underneath,

Time to dive and grab your bounty,

Lest you fail and come home neat.

Thundering Footsteps

Jim Burnett

Bullfrogs croak heartily,

A solitary hermit thrush sings,

A fresh cool breeze nudges the fog,

Allowing sunlight to filter through the dense fir canopy.

Lichen-covered rocks alight and sparkle,

Enormous looming moss-covered erratics bathe,

Loll and twinkle as,

The path twists and turns over arthritic roots,

Bare and gnarly.

Occasionally,

An odd stout pine punches through to the sky,

Umbrellas over the young fir stand braced on a whorl of thickened branching,

While tripods of triangular bracken ferns,

Absorb the sun's energy below.

With the swirling magic,

Fiber flourishes,

Green growth is renewed and grows old,

Standing dead stems topple,

And the carbon cycle repeats itself over and over.

Mookie slurps from the Ice Pond,

Sniffs the green grasses one-by-one that bend gently over its rim ,

Unleashed,

Renewed and happy,

His thundering footsteps resound down the trail once more.