Three more hours

to sleep

unopposed

 

Three more hours

from verses

supposed

 

Three more hours

of quiet

and peace

 

Three more hours

my dreams

to appease

 

Three more hours

where time

has been screened

 

Three more hours

to live

in between

 

Three more hours

not hither

or yon

 

Three more hours

a reckoning

— dawn

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

 

 

To catch a wolf

become the wolf

where tracks lead distant

to trails beyond

 

His nose on fire

and fangs bare fronted

to follow closely

all fear withdrawn  

 

He marks each turning

with blood ill letted  

to lure the hunter

on death’s foray

 

This sojourn ends 

in wooded darkness

to enter once

— your fate to prey

 

(Beartooth Mountain: August, 2025)

Rising

by sin

falling

by virtue

Caught in the

blind spot

of destiny’s

rhyme

 

Words

overweight

in consonant

sorrow

Vowels

deftly stolen

inverting

— the time

 

(Cooke City Montana: August, 2025)

Killing

time

without

wounding

eternity

Life

in the

balance

life

— on the edge

 

(Red Lodge Montana: August, 2025)

 

Loving

the solitude

Loving

the silence

Hating

consensus

Hating

refrain

 

Loving

the magic

Loving

the present

Hating

the reference

Hating

— proclaims

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

To carry life’s

complex messages

The structure

must be simple

 

Like angle iron

at ninety degrees

the weight to never

buckle

 

A thrusted spear

a hammer punch

direction

short and measured

 

Effects most dire

with arrows fired

from bows

— most straight delivered

 

(Chief Joseph Highway: August, 2025)

The Mountain

looms

and calls your name

To glory

or

perdition

Its summit

has a thousand

fathers

Whose abyss

awaits

— the orphan

 

(Beartooth Pass: August, 2025)

I can’t build

the bridge

But I can cross it

when asked

 

I can’t mark

the trail

But I can follow

when tasked

 

I can’t light

the fire

But I can warm

in its glow

 

I can’t walk

on water

But I can bathe

in its flow

 

I can’t play

the harp

But know an Angel

with hands

 

I can’t save

the masses

But love a Savior

— who can

 

(The First Book Of Prayers: August, 2025)

Common Sense

uncommon

Wisdom

in the queue

Figures lie

as liar’s figure

Judgment

— left askew

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

With children

a house becomes alive

Without them

an empty shell

With children

new moments of joy arrive

Without them

an unringing bell

 

With children

laughter stays in the air

Without them

but memories dwell

With children

the years to age unimpaired

Without them

— all magic is quelled

 

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)