Small Fire, Cold Night
By Graywolf / 2005


Sitting alone in the cold dark night,
By the orange glow of the fire light,


Camped beneath a huge live oak,
With a green stick, the fire I poke,


Silver moonbeams filter down,
Painting patchwork patterns on the ground,


The clear sky above is purple gray,
Glittering with stars far, far away,


A cold chill moves on a slight breeze,
Drifting the smoke off through the trees,


The wilderness creatures are nothing to fear,
For man is the most dangerous creature here,


And the evil spirits who haunt some men,
Live not in the night, but come from within,


The ones at peace in their own mind,
Will see no spirits of the evil kind,


Some find their peace under a steeple,
Gathered chanting with other people,


Others stare at the shadows on the full moon's face,
And search for peace in a cold, dark place.






Stone Ghost
By Graywolf / 2005


Stones on the river bank, just common stones,
Once a coral reef or some animals bones,


Flint, hard and unyielding as it appears,
Smoothed by running water in 10,000 years,


Or chipped to form an arrow head,
By ancient men, long since dead,


Strike the stones together to start a fire,
To cook a fish or light a funeral pyre,


A story lives inside each stone,
Of another time, things now gone,


Stone much older than when man was man,
A tiny detail in the Creator's plan,


To hold the stone, and see time reverse,
To feel the power of the Universe.






ROVER
By Graywolf / 2004


I am cute and fuzzy, my name is Rover;
I refuse to sit or beg;
But I will fetch a stick over and over;
If I like you I will hump your leg.


I catch butterflies and bees;
Leaping high into the air;
And whiz on tires and trees;
I haven’t got a care.


My human has been trying hard;
To make me sit and stay;
I’d rather bury bones in the yard;
And chase the cats away.


I’ll visit the poodle down the street;
A little later on tonight;
But I must learn to be discrete;
And get home by daylight.


I’ve been getting around pretty good;
I’m proud as proud can be;
The new puppies in the neighborhood;
All look exactly like me.






Georgia Burns
Graywolf / 2007

It hasn't rained in 14 days,
The air is still as death,
Georgia woods are ablaze,
Smoke fills every breath.

Sky is covered in grey haze,
It's 95 in the shade,
Not even the slightest breeze,
To cool the dusty glade.

Sweat drips on parched ground,
Ash falls from the sky,
Smoky whisps hang all around,
Grass has begun to die.

Eyes burning from the dirty air,
You wipe away a tear,
Rainmaker doesn't seem to care,
Big Swamp's on fire again this year!






Midnight Therapy
Graywolf / 2015

The chill of evening replaces the steaming afternoon;
And the valley is lit only by a thin sliver of the moon;

Far down the valley the darkness is split by a single beam of light;
Chased along the winding asphalt by thunder in the night;

The high-beam melts the darkness before his rumbling machine;
As the solitary rider moves on steel and gasoline;

Leaning through the curves under the distant starlight;
The whole valley echoes to thunder in the night;

Heading into the gale force wind that only he can feel;
He twists the throttle up on gasoline and steel;

No longer thinking about what is wrong or right;
He clears the corners of his mind with thunder in the night.





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