Blow hard, the Wind. Blow hard tonight.
Clean up the air, use all your might,
For the pollutants and emissions must
Be reduced for all, not for just
Those who we see every day,
But the World citizens, who must stay
In squalid hovels, at the border of the USA.

When the evening light, turns to black,
It's the time for a memory lapse.
Not recalling names of long lost friends,
Or remembering places we went to, often.
The sense of loss of her mind, I feel
Afraid for her, in this life surreal.
"Weep not for me", she's said before,
As we trudge towards that fateful door.
The cruelty of this disease, to me
Astounds my view of the lost memory.

I heard the sound of shrill agony
When a young Crow, fell from a tree.
A young Crow, when on the ground,
Will perish soon, as predators abound.
Give it water to make it strong
And before you know, it is gone.

I'm sorry. I just lost control,
Of my emotions, starting thick.
I've got something in my eye,
A tear rolls down, this old cheek.
I have not the strength that you seek.
Foolish man, with many issues,
Where is that darn box of tissues?

When a tear, rolls down my cheek
And I have difficulty trying to speak,
I will as a simple question; One,
Is this life we know almost done?
A sadness will come over me then,
As I recall when our love began.

In my dreams, I wait for thee,
Hoping and praying, in my reverie,
You'll look my way and recognize me.
I long to hear that nice hello,
Asking about how my day did go.
In the dream your mine to please,
Unencumbered by this hateful disease.
When I awake and you're not there,
I call for you, looking everywhere.

A river, running fast and free,
Over rock and logs, towards the sea.
The sound I hear, in my mind,
Are those of love's forgiveness, in kind.
A view of life's great travail,
Knowing that our love will sail,
Out of the darkness, on this night,
Comes the sound of love, in flight.

My feet slide through the dry needles,
Lying on the forest floor.
My destination is a pond or lake,
Just that, nothing more.
I search the trees, that lie ahead
And I see a eagle, soar.
The love I have for this great land,
Is all our land and much more.
Protect this land from those abusers
Or the land will be gone forever more.

Many years ago, my friend, Ed and I
Decided to run the Moss Bay, 10K or try.
We thought we were in good shape and more,
So we ran the Pt Defiance, 10 K the day before.
The next day, Sunday morn, as I recall,
Ed said, "Let's get to the front of all."
You don't do that, as you go by the pace,
That you will be able to run the whole race.
We did get in the front, cool as ice.
The gun went off and we ran for our life.
It wasn't our best run as you see,
But on the front page of the paper, was Ed and me.

Why would a sane man, that was alive
Run marathons, at the age of fifty-five?
A glutton for punishment, in a relapse,
For training run after run of many laps.
The first run was Vancouver, Canada, in early May
Second, the Seattle Goodwill Game, July, I say.
The heat was oppressive, on this long run,
As there was little shade but lots of Sun.
Next was Portland, a most lovely event,
With a lot of people and music in a tent.
We finished in Portland, at a good pace,
And relaxed and unwound after the race.
My last race was the Seattle Marathon.
Starting at Marymoor Park, up the
Burke-Gilman trail.
It was cold and rainy, but I did prevail,
As we finished at Gasworks Park.
It was quite a run, not a lark.
As a note to all who have read this funk,
It was the same day the floating bridge sunk.