Cycle

It is a meditative practice
Physical meditation
Focus on the now for hours
Hours speed by with the world
Natural world
Patience, solitude
Flowers grow by the thousands
In forgotten ditches
Animals startled
Silent approach
Sun beats down at high noon
Heat radiates up from baked asphalt
Cracks spread
Threaten to grab tires
Threaten to throw you off
Lonely trees grow along cornfields
Shady spots to nap
To eat nuts and chocolate
To stare up at the impossible blue sky
Life passes, no deadlines
Only dandelions fields of youth

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Bitter Fruit

The years pass
In two’s and three’s

You still are as you were
Softer, harder

Not bitter, so bitter that
No one calls or visits
Or wants to talk to you

You are given a choice everyday
Where you want to go
What you want to do

If it is to be enraged
Yet one more day
About what might have been
You are free to do so

But the years will pass
In two’s and three’s

Walking the treadmill
Money in, money out
Sex maybe, food always
Death upon death upon death

Pick the dandelions while you might
Blow them into the wind

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Young Love

This is after all, a love story
The dumbest people on the planet
Are 20-somethings in love
God bless them

Suck the marrow out of that
Because as the pain comes
And the disappointment comes
We grow to become

Ashamed of our longings
Afraid to express what it is
We really hope for from one another
You get to be free

Young and beautiful for now
You get to not worry
If your body will fail you
In the midst of passion

You don’t have the needs or the wants
The dreams of your little child
To worry about as you run long and hard
Headlong into your own

Go, be, live it.
There are decades of being practical ahead
Be precisely impractical
While you can

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, March 2016