Wyoming

Wyoming

You lift your rugged mountains to the sky.

                Each peak a mile or more above the seas

                Up where the air will blow and bite and freeze

And comb the clouds as silently they fly

 

Collecting snow so cold it feels like dry

Ice upon the weathered, broken rocks

Tumbled from the mountains, toppled blocks

Where years and weather sound like one long sigh

 

The snow across your frozen ground does lie

                In wind-swept drifts that hide the rocks and ruts

                And smooths the land of all its dips and juts

The earth looks smooth, unbroken to the eye.

 

Below the mountain peaks so tall and high

                The valley’s rolling hills look up their face

                They would be mountains in a lesser place

Here their height the mountains do belie.

 

In the valley here, a grizzly bear does hide

                But his tracks are all the evidence he leaves

                And all that see them there quickly believes

To meet him here is probably to die.

The tracks cross a creek under a slate-grey sky

                They’re clear and perfect in the fresh fallen snow

                And disappear as down the valley they go.

Sometime in the night the old boy passed by

 

Large herds of elk are migrating by

                They come up the hills in an unbroken stream

                Misty breath blowing and antlers agleam

Following old trails, and instincts they can’t deny

 

The snow is no challenge, nor the ridges too high

                They go where they want seeming only to stroll

                Their next feeding ground is their only goal

Like a caravan of old, they cover the miles

 

Mountains in heaven where winds heave and sigh

                Valleys of snow powdery and dry

                Bears and elk are traveling by

A land of harsh beauty, wonderful, wild.

 

©James L. Frady  12/24/2022

 

Requiem For The Fading Stars

 

Requiem For The Fading Stars

 

I weep for the stars that I can’t see.

That in my youth were so amazing to me.

I look to the heavens and the faded sky;

A sad remnant of days gone by,

When my brother and I would lie in the grass,

And watch shooting stars, and the zodiac pass.

The constellations were so clear and bright,

That swirled overhead throughout the night.

We knew them all and called their names,

And point them out in our own little games.

To see who could spot them and see the most

Starry figures in the brilliant hosts

Of stars, and the band of the Milky Way

As we dreamed of star ships to carry us away.

 

Oh, the stars of our long-lost youth!

I can’t see you now, it’s a painful truth

That lost to the night is Orion’s bow,

And the little dipper barely shows.

All drowned out by bright city lights

And streetlamps everywhere to banish the night

I look up now, and it pains my heart,

As I clearly see that we’re losing the stars.

The stars that helped our dreams to soar;

To reach for the heavens and strive for more

Than a life of sustenance by sweat and clod,

To dream of becoming more like God.

It was the stars that taught our hearts to dream

But now we don’t need them or care, it seems

Now we live every day and night,

Bathed in the glow of artificial light.

As the stars fade away and men’s’ dreams grow small

And we soon will forget that men once stood tall.

We grow smaller when we don’t stretch our mind.

I fear we’ll be lost to the mists of time.

Maybe when the lights all fade,

We’ll see them again and find our way.

 

We need the stars. We need the night.

We need to reach for those points of light.

We need the shadows, dark and deep

And those heavens above, our dreams to keep,

From fading away like the stars we’ve lost

Because we love convenience, no matter the cost.

 

I stand outside alone at night,

To soak in the darkness, so cool and quiet.

But I weep for the stars that I can’t see.

And the sense of wonder that’s been stolen from me.

 

© James L. Frady April 4, 2019.

 

Gnome

 

Gnome.

There’s a gnome in the woods below my house.

He stands by a stump as quiet as a mouse.

He’s solid as rock, short and firm

Below the hill beside a berm.

He has a basket on his shoulder 

And a warm overcoat as the air grows colder

He leans his back against the wood

Looking like all the world is good.

His warm knit cap is pointed and red

And rests upon his dwarven head

Hair and beard wave and flow

On shoulders and chest as white as snow.

His boots have sunk into the loam

From standing still for oh so long

His belt is black around his waist

To hold his jacket in its place

Pants of green look worn but still

Weather storms and wind and chill

He looks content as there he stands

He seems to have no other plans

A clutch of flowers in his old left hand

Seems out of place in the wooded land.

But he’s stood there and held them for so long

It would seem strange if they were gone.

He watches the woods with stony eyes

As slowly the days have drifted by

Seasons come and seasons go

Summer sun and winter snow

I wonder what goes through his mind

As he stands in the woods lost in time

As his brilliant colors fade with age

Each day turning like a page

He’s seen the years both day and night

As squirrels, and deer, and time pass by

He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak

He has no vision to go and seek

He spends his years quite alone

But doesn’t know how they have flown

Only I have seen those years

That he has stood in silence here

I sometimes pass him as I go

He doesn’t hear and doesn’t know

His smile is always there for me

But his ears can’t hear and his eyes can’t see

There’s a gnome in the woods below my house.

He stands by a stump as quiet as a mouse.

I say hello as I wander by.

And smile at the humor in his little eyes

© October 20, 2022

James L. Frady

Low Tide at Ocracoke

It’s low tide at Ocracoke 

The beach is wide and quiet 

The sand is smooth and undisturbed 

In the early morning light

The sky is clear and blue above

In the east, the risen sun

It’s low tide at Ocracoke 

And a new day has begun

It’s quiet down on Ocracoke 

Except the tumbling waves

Rolling onto the sandy shore

Keeping time through the lazy days

I’m heading down to Ocracoke 

A place of time and tide

At low tide on Ocracoke 

I’ll be by the ocean side.

(C) James L Frady 

April 23, 2022

Down to the Ocean

Down to the Ocean 

Lost in time. 

Down to the seaside

And peace sublime. 

Down to the salty

and Sandy sea

Down on the outer banks 

You’ll find me. 

Down to the ocean 

Where the sea breeze blows

Down to the shoreline

Where tides ebb and flow

Down on the beach

Beside the endless sea

Drifting in my dreams

You’ll find me. 

Down to the ocean

I can hear the call

Down where the waves

Take me away from it all

Toes in the sand

Is where I’ll be 

Down by Ocracoke 

You’ll find me. 

(C) James L Frady

April 23, 2022

Sanderling

Sanderling, sanderling

So quick on your feet. 

Better move fast 

You’ve a wave to beat. 

You flirt with the water

Along the shore. 

Running in fast 

And retreating once more 

You follow the wave 

Back towards the sea

But the next wave comes 

and away you flee. 

You pause one second

Your beak in the sand. 

To grad a morsel

Of food if you can. 

Another one here

And another one there. 

You dance with the surf

With never a care. 

And if a wave 

Should come in fast

You flip your wings

And fly at last.

Sanderling, sanderling 

I watch you eat. 

Sanderling, sanderling 

So quick on your feet. 

(c) James L Frady 

April 23, 2022

The Tide

The Tide

The tide is rolling in on Ocracoke

Wave after wave comes in. 

Soft green water mounting swells

That break on the sand and then,

Rush back down to meet the next

Sea green foamy wave.

The tide rolls in at Ocracoke 

Day after peaceful day.

The tide is rolling in on Ocracoke.

The rhythm of the waves unceasing.

From creation’s dawn till the end of time,

They mark the passing seasons.

Booming waves break white as snow,

Just beyond the sand bars.

The tide rolls in at Ocracoke 

Beneath the sun and stars.

The tide is rolling in on Ocracoke,

Then it will roll out again;

Flowing in waves crashing or soft

A cycle that never ends.

Time is lost in the rhythmic sound

Of the ever-tossing sea.

The tide is rolling in on Ocracoke 

I hear it calling to me.

(C) James L. Frady

April 22, 2022