Category Archives: Observation

Sunlight Dancing

The constant harmony of the river’s waters, reflected sunlight dancing briskly, vaguely green and resilient leaves clingingly flutter in an unusual warm November breeze, not a cloud seen, soon stars bright above a crescent moon, mars on her shoulder.

Matthew

Days before the announcements, where will he land, beating the crowd we stow basics for three days, adding ice to our freezers, a generator on backup.

Weathermen, civic leaders pronouncing danger begging heeded warnings, mandatory evacuations in reality subjective, considered by any whose probabilities exceed threshold.

Where he’s been, devastations, unbearably the downtrodden recanoider, striving forward after being stung by nature.

Where he’ll go is certain, to dissipation but when?

There is solidarity across disasters for those who have fought their own battles, while the inexperienced might empathize fractionally.

Let us pray.

Trotting Time

She runs, runs erect, runs direct, her cadence steady
Rhythm spawning contemplation, a mind focused
Past the blue spruce grove, alone, her dark two-tone drobe blending in ghost-like
There, in our presence, this unfamiliar runner trotting time away, step by step.

Skate

Doors of the rail car the only restriction, boyz emerging as opened, clunk click click, the eight bearings humming drag then a hook jump schradtch a thudded landing, smiling then circling back for another run, his buddy schradtch’n a thwack pumped he pounces on the board stopping as a Father and son snatch their sounding board / E line Denver

Hobo and Bart

Chocolate brown, showing grey, she manages at an appropriate distance, trailing 

Occasionally he has to coach, she taking every opportunity to saunter, but navigating as a reliable pair, a quiet dialog sustained

Once they cross the doubled  lanes,  she falls back gesturing to the bag man: “you know, the food is not all that great.”

Moons of Jupiter

First four, then three, now four.
Moons or cats or both?

Four then five, now six.
Deer crossing the Red River, their wet white tails dancing and reflecting a brilliant sun as they jet, foraging on an urban landscape now transforming to green.

Working for Food

Water at four degrees expands, evident by a noted rise in the nearby channel, the Red’s frozen surface glaring, a murder of crow dancing on its surface. Two thistle loaded tubes underhang the riverhouse, providing early reinforcement for finch survival, brisk is the air, the sun brilliant, winter’s clime has arrived.
DSCN1083
His coat blonded orange, his tail perk and tall, running with the speed and elegance of a deer, bounding, but not with direct fear, more with an attitude of simple gaming, for after all Mr. Fox deserves the riverside as much as any of us.

Squirrel populations invite regular thoughts of an inconspicuous urban harvest for a weekend lunch or dinner, their regular rummages continue from yet another heavy seeding from the stately burr oaks that surround their plantation, my southern heritage inescapable.

Greys and reds, chasing about, climbing vertically then crossing the high canopied sidewalks, tree by tree, the smaller red’s being more sinister in their elected winter abodes, gnawing through facia board hidden behind a blue spruce growing on the southern corner of the house provides illustration.

Parallel to the Red’s freezing, longer shadows are cast by the pillars of the tall western facing windows of this riverhouse, as a rhythm of the sun’s intensity continues with only gravitational knowledge of this pale blue dot.

Scrub wood burns in the livingroom’s fireplace, two squirrelly dogs scrambling in the projected warmth, playing, learning about their own natures, the one recently added to contrast the other’s somber mood after being orphaned by Ruthie’s expiration.

Order and balance between the squirrel and the fox remain, both in an objectivist war of self-preservation, and while steering cautious of Darwin when outdoors, whether fox, eagle, or otherwise,  we share in the goal for unobfuscated survival.

Pouncing Pincher

Leaves falling in a slow descent on this sunny windless morning;
    aside, a glassy rivertop reflecting from another State.
Slow is this winters coming, or at least the falls demise,
   the reflected being late sprouted greeneries.
The house vibrating from the pouncing woodpecker pinching peanut kernels
    from within a copper wired tube intercepting the river’s view,
and which waxes this poetry.

Flying w/out Wings

Thud!

From a high limb a young chipmunk survives a fall onto a spongy, recently rain soaked ground; stunned, pause, frenetic is his retreat.

Blocking, he staggers away opposite to my curiosities of astronomy, at least those being read as a Sunday morning distraction.

Garage Speak

Wake up, laughter, cussing, what happened?
She is just pissed at me – why are you tripping out on me, I asked?
Hanging friends started at the Bismarck, then snuck off to the Empire…
Nice, be nice, hug be hugged, imagined sun and warmth.
South they went on to Dempsey’s…
Gad they are making out, right in front of us – fuck!?
Fuck it – I am getting a smoke, Raz just fucking does not believe me…
Says Zak

derby week 2009

on plane from kci seeing family was helpful at getting beyond the record flood and I return to the clay dike that was the core of the protection for our river home, and the the city followed through with sand bag removals estimated at four thousand.

the flood story is on that may be best recorded in word and captured as an incredible and tenacious problem solving exercise keying on available resources and this preparation both physically and mentally

no war is fought alone – any three of the front line paced forward held strong and with persistence were indispensable with every twenty four hour block that slowly passed us by as the living room fire burned continuous along the remaining pet, thumper, knighted as the flood kitty, kindled the spirit that would soon prove powerful

early on impromptu design work required peeling ice and snow to expose an opportunity for a sound bed to lay the imagined protection of clay

a small crew was summoned to chip and shovel ice as some pessimism stirred on the clays arrival

as bags became available a line went down at points of first exposure near noon some eight days before the catastrophe would strike

simultaneously mr clay showed up and bobcats peeled back frozen grass and top soil but a day would pass before the actual material would begin to be laid on the skinned earth

from the road first the birm was build spanning it’s own extension into the yard both south and north lines where the connecting span was to be the last component to the forty one foot barrier

upon completion it’s breadth was impressive yet predictions stirred that forty two was likely forty three possible and forty four was not out of the question / a day maybe two was required before additional reaction was possible as the city reeled in fear of the worst and additional material was limited with any height coming from bags not clay

the long sleepless night allowed for the possibility for some additional clay as the core was running a two foot high dike topside on the main road.

Excerpted from iPod (8Gb) 3677 days ago