early morning bells
up quick
feet on the floor
like any zen monk or marine
prayers, scripture readings
"devos" we used to call 'em
basement workouts
sweat glistening on my shorn head
driveway hoops
whole pots of coffee
sitting or walking with my temple dogs
maybe just standing in the woods for a spell
strumming open chords,
cold beer
night time fires
Irish whiskey in a Scottish glass
moving through the Beatles catalogue
sometimes unbidden Johnny Cash tears
sure there's pills
tucked down deep in a bottom drawer
but I'm "doing the work"
serving
speaking life
hopefully being excellent to each other
complaining less
even (thoughtfully) not giving a fuck
anything really
to keep my heart above water
Anything....to keep my heart above water...."doing the work" in your humble monk way. Is there flooding where you are, Chris?
ReplyDeleteYes - one of my best friends lost his house.
Deletei love this how you in your routines of life seek to stay above and and out of the shadow but the soul always knows it there...in the bottle in the bottom drawer...in the corners of the envelop we call self...bkm
ReplyDeleteThis poem makes me want to cry. This is exactly how we should be living. I love this so much:
ReplyDelete“anything really
to keep my heart above water”