New Day

For as long as the worlds have battled the man had the memories.

In his youth he had tended the young stem of an oak; watching it grow until the day the Oak let the man harvest it

A relation/marriage where the two aged yet never died.

Oaken staff once supple now withered and dry.

Knurled with a burl only experience can gain while in the hands of skin tougher than the rock mantle of most worlds.

Sitting there today next to an eternal stream the man tended to the damage the world constantly bestowed to the foundation of stone mountains.

He always had much to do and to tend too.

Complaints and pain, sorrows and scorn; never ending, always changing into a new moment of worry and care.

Next to the man on a branch of an oak still in its adolescence, a bird laughed.

Oh my, how the bird giggled and guffawed.

The man gripped his staff tighter. So tight much of his life joined with the wood just as the wood’s life had joined with his.

“Why are you laughing little bird?” The man questioned an obviously amused bird.

The bird still smiled and aside from the laughter, remained silent and stared into the soul of the man and oak staff. This caused the man to blink…

Upon opening his eyes from the blink the man noticed there was no longer an old man holding an old stick, no longer tending to anything, no longer in existence. Instead, the man was now the bird and my goodness how the bird laughed

Flying away from the worlds the bird took flight and sang a song so powerful even the Owls were humble and the geese turned in circles.

Far away in a meadow there was a bird sitting the the growing fresh branches of a young oak tree, together the two would live, laugh, and sing.

Never more would the two care for what did and does not want to be helped. Instead there would be debate on the muses of the Seasons with the crickets now playing in the meadow beneath the bird and oak. There would be the success of flying past the heights of the Sun. There would be frogs and turtles playing cards. Fish learning how to dance on the Moon…

Today.

Today was a new day, a good day, and the laughter was as sweet as the music.

Seems Like Only Yesterday

“It was a dark and stormy night…” The old geezer was sitting on a bench and was starting to spin a tale.

“No it wasn’t. It was a clear moonlit peaceful night.” A squirrel chimed in while eating the stale nuts the old geezer had tossed in its general direction.

“You weren’t there squirrel.” A stern voice replied, or was there a trace of insecurity in his voice?

“Sure I was. It was me, those fucking stupid pine trees, my cousin Chitterbox, and you.” The squirrels face squinted in disgust as one of the nuts was actually a stray Viagra pill and gave the tree rat a new perspective on wood.

“Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. The owls were not hunting as…”

Interrupting the aroused squirrel was playing with his nuts and said, “No, it was bats. There was a moon. It was light, warm, and peaceful. The bats were busy playing a competitive game of tag.

“Who’s telling this story? Me? You? And why are you humping that forest toad?”

There was no comment coming from the squirrel as he had found a pleasant interlude with a bumpy, ugly forest toad that smelled oddly enough, of Cheeto’s.

“The owls were not hunting as they were discussing the pending fate of the local pine forest. Lately the trees had stopped dancing and turned their collective into only concerning themselves. Why, just yesterday they flipped me off and then again today.”

“You’re loopy.” The squirrel was laying on his back smoking a joint. A joint he stole from his neighbor while stealing the neighbors dog food.

“Loopy? Maybe. Though while the trees were defiant and losing their way they fail to understand that this Summer they will be destroyed. Lightning will instill in them the pain of fire and order will be restored.”

The squirrel was silent following the old geezers statement and now silence. Then he said, “Yeah. On this we agree. Got any chips and dip?”

(and this is the last live show I just saw and now if you’re reading this shit, you are too. oh, and if you’re a local pine tree, I’d uproot and move.)