We sat on a bench
tucked within the wood
overlooking a valley
clean and mosquito free
we laughed in the face
of a privilege
we couldn’t even see
yet when our eyes met
there was a truth
we could both remember
long past sharing a bench
in a distant wood.
©️Scott F Savage 1/2021
I remember when she would tell me
I could hear the hoot owl,
Often I might suggest I did as well,
though I could never recall exactly so.
Tonight I heard a hoot owl screech
and then a hoot, a series of hoot, hoot
there I was standing in nature,
hearing once nearby,
again in a distance,
listening I could sense an echo
only leaving my tears.
There was one time ago
when her words would sear my heart,
she would tell me about all
the natural sounds she knew so well.
Teaching me how to appreciate nature
my soul would soften with sweet imagery,
the hoot of an owl, certain calls of a warbler,
the annual growth of moss on a tree
during one of many walks
in the day, in the night, an afternoon
anywhere could become our favorite way.
I heard the hoot of an owl tonight,
I thought of you, I shed a familiar tear.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020
Turning the corner I discover a tree line,
I’ll return here frequently,
my own artificial forest in the city..
If I might have patience, settle into concrete
perhaps then find the words
watching skylines paint a summer sunset.
If I could share this with you I would be pleased
to know we could see the horizon
together a romantic setting an old familiar bench.
I wonder if she might ever think
about the days we spent yearning
along a valley of nature
searching each other’s eyes.
I know there are days I wake like today,
I wish it some other way,
if I could hold you in my arms and be okay.
Thoughts wander like a lonely leaf in autumn
like an old hat lost in the closet
used to have a fondness on his head, her branch.
I guess I will return to my walk again – setting sun
thoughts turn to the night
hoping a spectacular star gaze will comfort her soul.
Days like this in the haze of afternoon sunlight I love you.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
the ‘b’ series
Stand still
the breeze will rustle
the brush, maples and lounging birch
always a reminder,
a human being in a posture
is only on tour,
graced with the beauty of nature
far beyond a purpose or meaning.
Standing on trails
no building in sight
sometimes a pleasure
we imagine we might
have a pause
from human nature
an opportunity
to feel the soil
between our toes
smell the fragrance summer flowers,
maybe lilacs if we catch
a breeze at a certain
hour of spring evolve toward temperatures.
Looking at the moon one night,
so complete
full and radiant,
thought about life,
my own,
my dreams,
inside her world
I could never seem to hold onto
the elegance of sweet wonder,
forever now
will my own imagination
wander in a quiet
composure.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
The lush response to spring rains did
today and the days before
come to life after a torrent of rains,
create a world of lovely beauty, elegance.
So now the walks become predictable,
Heavens that we shadow a wonder in sunlight
the evening stroll to watch a sunset
the morning coffee to share a sunrise.
Perhaps a bicycle ride,
a camp nearby our favorite fishing hole,
sweet serenity of Nature just guiding my eyes,
what wondrous opportunity come to mind.
Walk alone, hold hands with your imagination,
we are often glancing and searching for the same.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
In trying my hardest to understand,
found is the constant dilemma
too much analysis
far away from a willingness
to simply be,
rather beyond the circumstance
why.
Oh how often does that moment arise
standing along a river bank
watching the water swirl in a pool
of natural evolution,
the beauty of spring,
the magic of the fall,
the curiosity of winter ice,
pockets of freedom
for water and eyes.
I do so remember those times,
holding her in my arms,
never wanting to let go
yet nightfall,
an afternoon rain,
a haste we could no longer overcome,
gone would be the moment,
we would no longer be.
Because it matters to me,
would that sunshine
could be a moment of clarity,
the love,
the sweet melody
of an afternoon,
cloudless sky,
her soft cheek near my own,
the touch,
drawing a slow walk
such is the magic,
found in eyes
waiting to follow
each other’s lead,
with no time beckoning
our beyond,
this moment will always
remain,
when we could be
together.
I listen to a melody takes me home,
let the soft sensuality
inside a dream
brought within my wakeful
seemingly
next life fantasy.
For this will be my chosen nostalgic reality
each morning through toward the night sky.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
the ‘b’ series
We are in such unknown territory,
our lives subjected to an invisible fear.
Last night I felt a quieting sensitive tear.
forced acceptance in horrifying history.
I cannot find a way to settle my nerves
it isn’t cabin fever as much as some sign
of wanting to stop my own incessant whine,
lives travel mountain roads in swerves.
Last night I listened to the winds in a howl,
the building shook and my windows rattled
I was not interrupted being stuck, saddled.
I couldn’t help noticing this menacing scowl.
In the winds of morning I did come to terms my own
life matters, be conscious, let the howling be known.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
(for a dear friend I am grateful)
Well wonder
what might be
swirling winds nearby
haunting rafters
in certain communication.
Love does not
will not
while routines find purpose
there in the silence
runs the conscience
that place private
where quiet smiles
mean less the obvious
stead discretionary
yearn.
A hope he carries across the city
might be a flash
a moment
when she
when an owl
simplicity
gave melody in the night.
©️ Scott F Savage 3/2020
I chose to walk along the icy paths of winter,
a place my dog will show a keen nose,
looking for his imaginary friends,
while I the walker, contemplate ideals.
I wonder sometimes about pointless
disregard when the idea of choice makes
its way into our frame of mind,
in a manner of responsible livelihood.
The snow and ice crunched once underneath
my rather pointless Sorel slick soles
and I tried to imagine in the moment,
what was on my mind so illicit.
I always reflect upon the story of a friend,
many years ago, the halls of the hospital,
he would see his boss coming the other way,
in a moment imagined silent – she did slip and fall.
Often that tale comes to mind, when in a second,
I’m on the ground, snow down my collar,
perhaps a bruise … generally ego,
and I pick myself up my dog lapping my cheek.
Is it perhaps possible to move the branch of
the trees down the path when in winter
we only realize the stark dismissal of a blossom
in spring when a shield of ice does reign.
We might know a dream, a sunlight, a starry night
all of our features of beauty with every step in life.
© Scott F Savage 2/2020
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A Collaborative Mental Health Blog
A little bit of me, with a little bit of you. A little of the old mixed with the new. A little too loud, a little too shy. A little grounded and a little high. A little bit of sad and a little bit of laugh. A little bit of evrything i carry in my heart. This is my blog that highlights other works, for my poems and musings please follow me on http://myshellecongeries.wordpress.com/
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