These people I know kill me.
The same ones take care of me.
Often, they have me crying,
Tears of joy,
Tears of laughter,
Tears of pain,
But whatever the result
Their intention is always good.
Mornings are for smiling,
Even when the hills are steep,
The water unforgiving,
Or the pace too fast.

As it should be with friends…

Perspective is perplexing,
Music is relaxing,
Plenty of coffee is “Ex-laxing”
And I’m sitting in a convection oven office
Trying to make sense of
Mental incarceration, and
Any other mmm-mmm bad
Thing that might surf through my brain.

Take perspective,
A walk in the reality of one,
Since we all see things differently,
Through our lens,
In our time, with our emotional makeup,
Under the stresses of our lives.
It’s easy to see how we can be so confused
By the way we are supposed to be
Because the rules are made by those seeing
In way unique to them, foreign to us.

In these days of Rrrrrr,
Political discourse, career apathy,
Self-inflicted physical beatdowns,
The rundown nature of getting on
Tends to taint my outlook on how things are going.
Music soothes, takes on that edge,
With just a little hit on the boombox bong
I melted away without the need for psychoactive properties
Given a little bass, some familiar words, and
I zoomed away from the manstrating mood I found myself in.

Today, Joe Walsh’s, Life’s Been Good To Me, played, it’s
A teenage anthem that never fails to raise my spirit.
Coming through beat up desktop speakers, Joe helped me leave now
Allowing me to drift back to a community gathering where
Big Pioneer speakers added the soundtrack
For a night of shenanigans that
Started a summer adventure
Where for a few weeks
I’d understand the importance
Of patience, pacing, and accepting the impermanence of life.

Maybe the song was the inspiration
For my nostalgic trip back to York County.
Maybe it was the river of coffee that I’d been drinking
Due to the absence of anything stronger
During working hours.
Interestingly, the java didn’t loosen my bowels,
It relaxed my thoughts, allowing those good memories
To flood my present and wash away
The stodgy way of thinking I woke up with.
Perspective, music, and coffee. Ahh…

Last night it was the guzzling,
Champagne-suds, so cold, so easy
Hydration leaving me numb
To political firebombs, global conflicts, human idiocy.
Instead, that subtle buzz had me enjoying
Thoughts, positive ones
Where wind-blown fly balls went our way,
Where sermons on baseballs traveling deep
Found a congregation of contact making high schoolers
Who are doing something special,
Growing up,
Gaining perspective.

This morning it’s coffee
Slugged down with a bottomless potential,
Leaving me shaky,
Hands, hyped on caffeine
Beboping some kind of punk rock caligraphy, are
Driven to type,
Because my fingers are too excited to write neatly,
Sharpee lines all over the place, upending my quest
For neatness, order, and control
Everything opposite of what I’m hoping for
With creativity,
With aging,
With wisdom.

“Culture is the intersection of people and life itself. It’s how we deal with…” Wendell Pierce


Heats soothing action
Robbed from coffee by winter
Microwave upstairs