Billowing clouds snuff sun’s last flare; Day breeze yields to twilight’s fury Trees shake and swirling leaves fly, Rain driving, pouring hard and cold. Towns and farms bolt gates and doors As children whimper, grownups shudder. Heralded by heaven’s light, thunder’s crash, Doc Time is called to dutiful round. Harbinger of destiny, he practices his craft On cobblestones made of bone and sweets. Cries rise more piercing than the wolf’s, Joy more exultant than a heavenly choir. Old Aaron parted around midnight; Reminiscence was born at quarter past.
In a bright room where the sun beams dance, there I sit perched on a cushioned throne, regally aloof and unperturbed by the clutter of a world not suited to my august stature. My eyes are impervious orbs, chill crescents that gaze through tight lids at the current scene filtering out the chaos of my subjects’ souls— fond, but fumbling denizens of my domain. Their human voices, symphony of uneven notes, fall like scattered autumn leaves all about me, with coochies of affection, swoons of adoration, failing to budge me from my afternoon scheme. I just stretch in a languid arc of feline grace, feigning boredom while my humans croon their crude, ear-grating paeans of devotion, soundtracks to my staid and patient resignation. And as day wanes and heat leaves the room, I will purr out a “Meow,” a calculated bridge between the sacred space of my solitude and the clumsy affection of human hearts. In that certain moment, when I deem it so, I may settle in closer, perhaps just an inch, to signal that, “I acknowledge your presence, but remember, I’m still master of this realm.” My subjects, ever grateful for this fleeting gift, stroke my coat with hands trembling in awe, clueless that tolerance is my boon and grace, and affection a crown I wear lightly, if at all. Thus, in ordained tandem, rule is maintained: a sovereign planet alongside faithful moons, each tethered together in a perpetual tango by the gravity of my immutable indifference.
I was drivin’ my van by a neighborhood bait and tackle shop When I saw old Dave carrying his rod with a skip and a hop. “If you’re headin’ Café Teatro way, I’ll give you a ride.” And so, Dave climbed into the van and loaded all his gear inside. I inquired, “What next piscatory venture will you book?” He said, “Listen, I’ll fish any stream or lake I can cast my hook…
I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man Crossed high sierras, man I’ve breathed the country air, man Of cold streams I’ve had my share, man I’ll fish anywhere
I’ll fish the Smith River, Hot Creek, Tahoe, McCloud River Trinity, Oroville, Gila, Owens River Fall River, Mammoth Creek, Klamath, Truckee River Yuba, Don Pedro, Ventura, Merced River Shasta, East Walker, San Jacquin, San Jacinto Los Angeles, Sacramento, and Colorado, bass and rainbow
I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man Crossed high sierras, man I’ve breathed the country air, man Of cold streams I’ve had my share, man I’ll fish anywhere
I’ll fish the Missouri, Snake, Umpqua, Yukon River Mississippi, Yellowstone, Tennessee River Kansas, Ohio, Rio Grande, Feather River Brazos, Colombia, Red, Cumberland River Erie, Michigan, Champlain, Seneca Lake Bear Lake, Devils Lake, Crater Lake, for trout’s sake
I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man Crossed high sierras, man I’ve breathed the country air, man Of cold streams I’ve had my share, man I’ll fish anywhere
I’ll fish the Amazon, Yangtze, Danube, Loire River Orinoco, Po, Seine, Zambezi, Rhine River Brahmaputra, Parana, Nile, Ganges River Murray, Indus, Moselle, Tigris, Yellow River Mackenzie, Niger, Ebro, Vistula, Mekong, Volga, Douro, Oder, Thames, and on and on
I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man I’ve fished ev’rywhere, man Crossed high sierras, man I’ve breathed the country air, man Of cold streams I’ve had my share, man I’ll fish anywhere
See how spring returns. Its first messenger appears— the meadow’s crocuses. This morning amid light snow, precocious buds burst through.
How delicate the purple petals. Borne by the benign breeze, Their sweet scent subtly arrives, Drawing attention from passersby who stop and linger there.
As bright clouds loom far away, Startled birds rise from the sand. On fragrant grass along the levee Butterflies ceaselessly dance, While fish frolic mid the lotus pads Through light reflected in the ripples. A hermit’s life is a floating reverie. There’s nothing more to say.
The hills and valleys seem to wait for The moon to approach on still waters. A lone goose flies in the darkening sky While a dog barks down the lane. As for me, with no greater plan, I fear that I’m just marking time. A foreign guest in a foreign land, I return home in my dreams.
At night, I climb the lone path to the promontory The forest ends, the sky opens I glance out, my spirit soars Sea waves wash the feet of wind-combed cliffs
With moonlight for guide Wisps of predawn mist shuttle across the horizon The goddess of night seductively beckons Her company cordially declined
She ascends to her heavenly lair The black veil lifted The passage for Apollo’s golden chariot is again assured Vigilant I stand awaiting news from the far-off east.
Road turns to path Passing empty paddies and sleepy huts Turn, twist, I pierce bamboo thickets The valley heat diminishes I touch the cloud-wiped moon.
Wind sweeps through green glade A pagoda clings to mountainside A happy scent of apple blossom In the distance a soft figure stands I touch the cloud-wiped moon.
In the cosmic dance of forces unseen, Where nature weaves its tapestry serene, Five powers reign with awe and might, Each in its own compelling right:
Gravitation, the gentle embrace, Drawing worlds in the celestial chase, A pull unseen, yet profoundly felt, In orbits, where planets have dwelt.
Electromagnetism in sparks that fly, Invisible waves piercing the sky, Kinetic pinball and magnetic magic, Pulsing currents, charged and quick.
Strong Force, binding quarks so tight, In the heart of atoms, a force of might, Where nuclei are held, against all strife, With a glue that bounds atomic life.
Weak Force, subtle and spare, Transforming particles with magic flair, In radioactive decay and fusion’s glow, A quiet agent that spurs the flow.
And amidst these natural symphonies, Lies a force beyond all boundaries, LOVE, the ethereal, intangible art That binds and heals the human heart.
Like gravity, LOVE is a steady hand, Attracting souls from where they stand, Energizing in its electromagnetic stream, Warming hearts with radiant beam.
Strong as bonds in the nuclear snare, LOVE endures, beyond compare, And unlike that Weak Force, it can mend, Heal wounds of spirit, help transcend.
In the vast expanse of time and space, These forces ever weave and interlace, Yet LOVE is the force that knows no end, A beacon, a guide, and a faithful friend.
Thus, in the grandeur of the cosmic plan, From smallest atom to galactic span, LOVE is the force that truly stands apart, Cure for the loneliness within the heart.
