Holiday poetic prose

As a non-hibernating human being there is a time when in my existence I lay dormant in a shadowy malaise, as it were, a condition that transcends my true nature causing me to be a grumpy misfit among sun worshipers and barbecue bimbos as I have never seen the value in frying ones epidermis to a pork rind in the infra red blast furnace of ole Sol’s rays.

My arousal arrives with each day’s sunset beginning a little earlier and with the tree leaves shuddering to fall from their perch in a frosty apoplectic form anticipating re-birthing in the coming spring with a rather unwelcome death that coats the yard by their cast off carcasses leaving spindly shadows on a rather well manicured carpet of green.

However, autumn and winter herald scrumptious tables of Thanksgiving dining with friends and family, bright multicolor lights reflected in the eyes of joyful children, and glittering Christmas trees surrounded by gayly wrapped presents which are those things that energize me from somnolence into a jolly jig dancing Fantasia footed fool, ain’t it grand.

©2012, Donald Harbour

I am amazed with life

discovery is a marvelous adventure
finding something new in each beginning
a step upon an oft travel trail
touching the bark of an old friend
whispering words with unrealized meaning
looking over your shoulder the first time
a glance framed with a clear eyed smile
the prize of your child’s first “aha” moment
realizing the the earth will love you back
knowing who you are and what you have been

©2011, Donald Harbour

You know he is watching

Yeah I like watching pretty girls, but what was that other thing we used to do?

You can not avoid it!
You are tied to the tracks
of time by the proctor of life.
That distant light, that rumble,
that incessant movement toward you,
it is not probability, it is
destiny. Somewhere on our
life’s plain, a moment will
arrive, you will not know it,
it will just occur. It will not
announce itself, nor will it
rustle the curtains of your
soul’s cathedral. It is a
charmer festooned in the
cloth of another, bringing
a gift tied in bright paper,
gaily colored balloons,
and sweets. There will be
love, that all-consuming
warmth of family and friends.
But, hanging over the joy is
the Joe Btfsplk cloud
dressed as Stupefyin’ Jones,
you see it because you have
passed the point of no return,
the downhill slope, the realm
where the invigilator keeps company.
You know he is watching, as
he has been since the day you
drew your first screaming breath,
and you come to the realization;
This may be my last birthday, enjoy.

© 2010, Donald Harbour

A gift of knowledge

I hear your whisper in my heart and it is filled with joy.

There is turbidity swirling in the mind,
If One could but shine a light upon it, all would clear.
This cloud cast between thinking and knowing,
A closet door to beyond, to understanding.
There is prayer and meditation, seeking, never finding,
Never able to really see past this occlusion,
Just out of reach the finger outstretched,
Never meeting the seekers grasp, never fulfilling.
It is a veil so diaphanous and yet so vast that,
Time and the stars do not pierce the curtain.
We have but one instance to know the truth, this
Eternal wisdom that balances all creation.
One instance to know, to see, hear, become,
A gift of knowledge from which we shall never return.