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Posts Tagged ‘wind’

There

that’s where mirrors break
from reflecting the broken,

that’s where books close,
a story done,

where real tragedy
in good music starts

where surges of waves
storm in unbroken

and writing one more page
seems gone,

there, it’s a long way back
from that dark flooding
of the heart.

Kyle McHale` 2017

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Christmas Eve

Enough sun is left hanging low to
turn one side of everything golden.
Depending on how you enter into the fading day,
your mood is decided by which part
of your body enters the light first.
Golden hands. Golden feet.
Golden heart. Golden mind.
Filtering that light the neighborhood,
sifting that horizon gleam, every house,
every chimney, every small branch on every tree,
seeping into things as it passes by until it hits you.

Gold-kissed flurries swirl around,
gentle wind swept snow clouds whip up
and look painted in the cold sky.
Wind enough to chill your breath and let it
wrap around to your opposite ear,
almost a whisper to yourself,
wind enough to sneak a snowflake into
your mouth to melt on the tip of your tongue,
freezing all other senses for a moment,
or maybe you ate a flake of gold that circulates your veins,
maybe those clouds have gold trim like one of
your childhood pillows had.
Maybe it was all there just for you.

Standing where you used to live, thankful.
How could you have ever moved away?
How could you ever live here again?
Which side of you must be golden?

One day in the future on this night,
you’ll sit in a chair with a good view of the room and the tree,
among certain things, everyone else asleep,
whiskey in hand,
perhaps a fire softly roaring if you’re lucky enough,
what will matter most on that day of all days?

Your thoughts will say, “I hope what’s golden is seen
by those for whom my love is truly meant.”

Kyle McHale                                2014

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Sweet Pickings

A farmer’s field picked up sweet
Summer scents from a sunrise glow
And vision had a feast to eat
So did scent when the wind did blow.

A basket filled with summer fruit,
Hard hands in dirt to smile high,
To Kokopelli and his flute
Blessed harvest it’s not too dry.

Please play a little note or two
Way out on the horizon line,
Those notes carry when sky is blue,
Perhaps this night is meant for wine.

For knowing love has filled the ground
At least for one more year,
Deep in the night the whispers sound
For rest and wine and hope and cheer.

A season lived, a season kept
In memories of cheerful kind,
Summer nights when the peaceful slept,
When a spirit flute had you to find.

Kyle McHale             2013

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Deep at the Roots

When the light fades over the hills,
The world quiet and resting,
Among the creatures place you sit
At odds with what you are thinking.

Know that life is fast, life is slow,
Sit and rest in your wooden chair,
Breathe it all in to cycle out,
Trust your thoughts to that low lit air.

Let it take your troubles out there,
Sit easy for a time and then
Your thoughts will spread in that soft wind
To find you back in a time when

Dirt and cricket chirps had meaning,
When nothing mattered but the sun,
When crayfish waited for your small hands,
When you first had to trust someone.

That breeze will bring it back to you,
Remind you life is not that way,
Then as the early night time falls
Be thankful for the warmth that day,

And sweetness flows deep in the ground,
That pulsing life just under foot,
Just dirt and crickets singing loud,
Touch all of life deep at the roots.

Kyle McHale      2010

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That Spot on the Trail

Chances are you’ll wait for me
At that spot out on the trail,
That spot I know that I have seen
Where beams follow that light trail.

And tailing out from sacred place,
The stones, the view, the forest leaves,
All breathing and dancing deep,
At last at peace, at last at ease.

Chances are you’ll wait for me,
Your tattered medal on your shirt,
In life wisdom is loneliness
And bravery is left on dirt.

But in it all I feel you now,
The order of things all in place,
That spot on the trail in dreams,
Becomes awake as real place.

As you guard, protect, and see,
That spot where gentle wind derives,
Chances are that you are there
To watch where all comes alive.

For with that gentle wind I know,
It travels to the sea from there,
To help the sails push on through,
To gently move through salt kissed air.

Guiding all from that trail spot,
Good company I know you’ll keep,
To show the others all you know,
To let the world beat so deep.

Then when I think of brotherhood,
I remember your handshake,
That so few sons and fathers shared,
In death, in life, asleep, awake.

The natural forces weigh on me,
When I think that I may fail,
That place will be there that we know,
That sacred spot on honored trail.

Kyle McHale      2010

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Between Trees and Stars

What floats around the canopy
At night when owls and stars can see
The tops of giant evergreens
Where those wonders are seldom seen?

That place where trunks may kiss the sky,
Where wind and secret stars pass by.
Given life by remoteness deep
Into the woods the whispers keep

That very line a sacred place.
The last green needles seeking space
Towards heavens true star lit map,
An ancient road, an unworn path.

Between there sits some answers to
What can’t be seen in day time blue.
If only one could fly with owls,
Or travel as the grey wolf’s howl.

Kyle McHale      2011

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Gentle Wind

Softly now, gentle wind,
Kiss them on the head from me,
I have lived, I have seen,
I wish to cross the sea.

Softly now, gentle wind,
Push my sail lightly so,
Calm the sea, calm my heart,
Please show me what you know.

Softly now, gentle wind,
Guide me with true reason here,
I’ve been lost, I seek truth,
I wish to face my fears.

Softly now, gentle wind,
Forgive me if I cry,
Touch my face, hold my hand,
Let me feel the sky.

Softly now, gentle wind,
Please leave me out to sea,
I have lived, I will go,
Kiss them on the head for me.

Kyle McHale      2010

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