on forest monks

bike path is choked
push on
climbing over windrow trees

looking for signs, clues
some remnant of the old forest monks
     friends

a few planks from a broken bridge
   tea pot full of muddy rain water weeds
a roofless shack, and a fallen chair

they've moved on
good as lost
beyond this forest deep

summer poem in winter

minivan roads erode
cut through the trees
swampy and stunted
  as they were
 now
town home rows
float on marshy soil
red wing blackbirds
circle
move on

snow plow prayers

blade crunches curb
snow plow rumbles past
shakes a tired monk awake
       rises from sleeping mat
prays

snow on the path

a gust
hood slips free
tousled toque slides
    stops
on the newly shaven brink

monk pushes
a few more scoops
  clears the path
straightens his precarious hat

staying the course

i)  Tired Monk's View

path is iced over
steadfast boots
slide deep
fill with snow
             somedays
even monks slip

ii)  Temple Dog's View

temple dog is on a scent
something hot
tinged with human

big deep snuffling, snorting,
ah    just spilled coffee

always the cold

temple is frost heaved n'shifted
little cracks
welcome the cold
       creeping low
across the floor

the tired monk fights back
with hot hearth logs
and doubled wool socks

stars n'guitars

i)

starlight glimpses
quick n'sly through
low hanging campfire smoke

ii)

that guitar a yers
it looks like yah
walked out in to tha deep woods
hewed that guitar outta
some storm blown
lightening burnt tree

yep -
that is how I get them gnarly old sounds



I'm trying to capture the real Lanark County/Ottawa Valley Accent.