Measured in Song

My life is measured in the songs I sing to, treasured memories in every line.
These I will miss, when at last I lay down in my time.
Dying slow, as we all are, I gather these notes to my heart
Could I ever let them go, sleep the dreamless sleep in part?
Ah, sadness furrows my brow when I think of that.
More than anything in this world that I lack,
Their loss would grieve me unceasing,
At the moment of this body's releasing.

Lately I see
People putting on a show.
Mega-dollar McMansions,
Looks like they're rolling in the dough.
Here's a nugget of advice,
Just to let you know,
Those rockers on the front porch,
Don't make that house a home.

MORNING IN THE MEADOW

I

Stumbled into the meadow

The silence broken only by a bird

Then

Wind rushed in through the trees

Soul

Released and proud

The Gloaming Forest breathes a gentle sigh

A tender whisper in my ear

While the Sun

Dances with the shadows

The air comes alive

While dew-drenched serenity

Gives way to bronze and amber hues

Shimmering to a misty golden light

All the while

The air is filled with joyous birdsong

It is morning in the Meadow

And I gaze in sacred wonder

(Written 3/10/1979 while in high school)