Back in the day,
words said quite often,
when smoking was said,
to drive another nail into your coffin.

I would state,
so long ago,
when a word came to mind,
and to paper it would go.

I have reflected now,
seeing the word, like a trick,
throwing it at the paper.
For some reason it would stick.

I wish I could say to you,
writing is a craft,
but when I write words,
sometimes it's just a laugh.

So, laugh away,
you all are my friend
and at this end, you will see,
what you read, is not let's pretend.

Shimmering, lights the path,
through the garden dark.
Moon beams, light the way,
making the path less stark.

Now, as we approach,
the summers end,
autumns on its way,
the Solstice will begin.

I realize my days are numbered.
I know it very well,
not looking for empathy,
on my perditions road to hell.

I need to have support,
but also need my time,
so, I can do my thing,
and avoid doing a whine.

Oh woe is me, was said,
to many, one and all,
but I will not bury my thoughts,
for all of us will fall.

I have been told,
from every broken heart,
a rainbow will appear,
to brighten your daily start.

I'm just an old guy,
going to have his last chance.
It's ok, I understand,
this will be life's final dance.

When the world,
is beating at your door.
When you are at the stage,
where you don't care anymore,

you need to strengthen
your personal defense,
arranging your own time,
to improve and get off the fence.

You must fight,
for it is not a sin,
but you must fight,
if you are going to win.

It's a philosophy of life.
it's needed every day
You must always fight,
or you may go away.

An early morning rising,
to go and fish the Still*,
a northern river, with steelhead,
to land one is a thrill.

I have fished this way,
on many a winter day.
Hoping to get a strike,
with my first cast away.

*Stillaguamish, a river by Monroe

Oktober fest, will soon be here,
when Nature's bounty will be reaped.
Wheat, potatoes, squash and beans,
will be our winter's treat.

Well before food was canned,
salt was a natural preservative way,
to keep food from spoiling.
The process is still used today.

I look forward to the harvest,
of all of Nature's fare,
for it will be our food supply,
and the food we must prepare.

Running across the meadow,
grass up to my knees,
when I realized, rattlesnakes,
like the meadow breeze.

Out of sight, from perdition,
which soared the early sky,
for I am in the grass, a snake,
awaiting my passing by.

I jumped, up in the air,
my feet never touching down,
going another yard or so,
before they touched the ground.

Are these my last days of summer,
as we approach the autumn days,
or in the other world, fall.
If it is I will catch my last sunny rays.

There is a life's tenant,
which I find is true.
I need to care for myself,
before I care for you.

When I'v ignored my need,
and helped another,
it's as if I was crazy,
to help my brother.

There is a fine line,
when pondering about the who,
for I am more important,
to me but not to you.

Is it hard and cruel?
I suppose it's true.
Not taking care of me,
then I am nothing too.