Wolf Moon Mystique

 

 Wolf Moon Mystique

The Wolf Moon is shining in the January sky.

A few ragged clouds are drifting by.

The stars are drowned in the Wolf Moon glow

In the hollow I hear the cold wind blow.

I see the moon as old as time

Shining down bright right into my mind

I wonder at the things it has seen

Illuminated in its misty sheen

There is no age that has come and gone

That the moon did not see from its frigid home

 

Down by the creek an old owl hoots

Across the sky a falling star shoots

The coyotes howl and yip below

Hunting in the night by the Wolf Moon glow.

I see the moon and feel its mystique

Calling my soul to venture and seek

Something my mind cannot quite define

Something my ancestors lost in time

I know this Moon will fade and be gone

But the desire to wander goes on and on.

 

©James L Frady  January 5, 2023

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