The long road of 2020… Expectancy hangs in the air… A cradle of wounds and awakenings…
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The Long Road 2020
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Donkey Square Dance
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“Heaven... I'm in heaven, And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek, When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek.” Irving Berlin (sung) Two donkeys chase the field abreast --the long ears fly. Spark ignites the farm dog who --follows donkeys’ stride. Flames of bark lick fleeing hooves. Cowboy bounds, bounds-removes, daisy chain, do si do --- beat, beat… dance is sweet. Donkeys spin the barrel hard thunder roll across the plain-- The dog turns last pounds ahead awesome speed he gains. Two, three, four runs by seared with lightning lines. Sing their trail -- happy dog long feathered fur shines pushed flat for the speed ahead, then ruffles through the turn, but soon the dog finds end of breath-- sits-ragged, panting, yearns... Slowing to a happy pitch trot in single file heads high donkeys-- upper lips smoochin’ --victory smile.
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In early summer’s water she has swum the cool clean pond where the dragon dwells. In mid-summer barn swallows dive and snap the water sipping through as the ghostly dragon engulfs its prey below. In early autumn an aging goddess floats. The pond ferments. She sits cross-legged atop a board— roasted, wrinkled listless... An orange dragonfly splayed out catches her attention. Its feeble fluttering, ringlet ripples the effort spirals back millions of years. The futility of trying to play savior Noah’s wife. So many tumbling from her Ark have drowned failures-- of pigeon, robin, the raven, kingfisher, mouse, red squirrel, even the soft-rumped packrat… Never-the-less she scoops up the dragon its orange body-stick measured by gossamer paneled wings yes! huge alien eyes still to dry and glow… Dragon as a cat it grooms wind-milling forelegs over its head--around. Propeller legs spinning the single engine plane readying for flight. Minutes ooze and buzz and glide Now, she’ll see what happens-- Her palm shadow passes atop the dragonfly and four wings pump to flight. Her heart leaps and across the pond helicoptering to the sedges. She didn’t expect it this little life lengthened. Was this best? No, it’s the way it made her feel— that was best. ************************************************* An after thought… Having performed a wholesome act it is good to repeat it. Enjoy the pleasure of its memory. The fruit of goodness is contentment. Italic selection taken from the Buddhist Dhammapada -translated by Ajahn Munindo.
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Thanksgiving Day 2020
Thanksgiving Day 2020 A walk through the woods with each falling leaf a song flying bird and grub searches too quick darts a gray squirrel branch to slender branch bends with the weight of passings ... A nation reflects.
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Bridge to Skookum Wood
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Pandemic Project
May – November 2020 –Bruce’s Timber Frame Virus Hut.
Timber framing and “post-and-beam” construction are traditional methods of building with heavy timbers, creating structures using squared-off and carefully fitted and joined timbers with joints secured by large wooden pegs. It is commonplace in wooden buildings through the 19th century. (Wikipedia)
Slideshow for Cabin Project–
Special Thanks to Tom, Braden, Brant, Avery, Todd, Art, Tim, and others who helped Bruce work on this project.
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Professor Skookum
Glacier’s Gunsight Pass– also known as Professor Skookum
2007 – 2020 13 years
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A big buzz circles.
Her head bowed over a biography–
Of Henry David Thoreau.
She ignores
whatever
you are…
Bottom grounded.
Her back presses
against the Ranger tire,
and the late afternoon glow
fires the prairie.
But, buzzy
Insistent
comes back,
rounds her head again
and this time she guesses—
The fuzzy
black- yellow bumblebee
drops like a bomb into a ground-hole
two feet in front her lean crossed legs.
Suddenly the Old dog, Professor Skookum pads past;
Her chest draws tight–
his big foot falls on the spot—
crushing…?
Professor Skookum continues on to drink prairie pond;
Cattail seeds gently parachute to earth
and softly she separates the sugar-rich grass.
Her words fall … “Are you down there?” –
Silence.
And then so faintly… “Hush, not the tomb; I’m in the zone, … I’m in the zone…”
Skookum takes a shallow swim – he shakes and the ring of water- pellets fling jewels– a peacock’s tail. Unconcernedly… in the zone, …in the zone.
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