Shrouded Shore: The Many Musings of Thom Singleton

  Snowed-In on Christmas Eve ‘Twas the day before Christmas, forgive me my fun, Not a human was rising, nor, it seemed, was the sun. The suet was hung on the feeder with care,  In hopes the cardinals soon would be there. Red birds didn’t come and not even Old Woody, They hid in the spruce trees, it’s so cold and windy. Like the feathery ones, the humans laid low, Way below zero outside, and big drifts of snow. I braved the weather and filled the bird feeder. Then the red birds appeared, looking quite eager. Visions of sunflower seeds must have danced in their heads, For, when I brought out the seed, they ate ‘til well fed. Finally Woody the Woodpecker did swoop in, Pecking at the suet, and making a din. Birdseed’s a good gift, you don’t have to wrap it. For someone like me who can’t seem to do it. Gifts delivered, I touched my nose, tilted my head, And then, with a wink, jumped back into bed.  

  Year ‘Round Wind Chill Birds amaze. -35 degree wind chill, a wintry blast. Yet, they fly and flutter like it’s nothing. Come to think of it, birds always experience wind chill in the breeze they create.

  Blizzard A mantle of wind-whipped white blankets the world. Snow all day, and all night. “All day” sounds long, but it’s winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. The sun there was made no difference, for the clouds thick with snow extinguished its light. Snow and more snow, all day and all night. Then the wind took over to make it snow even when it wasn’t. Frigid blasts chilled one’s skin from -8 degrees to -35, if, heaven forbid, you had to go outside. White-out and wind-chill. Cold to the bone. Glad we have all our holiday shopping done. Pity those who don’t. Not a creature is stirring in my house, except to dig deeper under the covers. Or maybe bake some bread, anything to turn that oven on. But, take heart, it’s only the eve of the eve of Christmas. The temperature is supposed to be +9 by then, a holiday heat wave.  

  Four Grand Four thousand dollars? No, something priceless,  Four Grandkids!!!! Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, for me anyway.  This young man is a Grandpa, four times over. But, with these guys, life is truly grand. They’re all boys,  And we only need a mere seven more for a football team. They could adopt a few more big-truck-kind-of-guys. Don’t think this will happen, though. Their parents will dismiss my plan as cracked. But wait! Why do I need more when I already have four of the coolest kids on the planet…       Kai, age 12, wide receiver and defensive corner, Packer Backer, producer of You Tube       videos, and the best big bro anyone could have;      Connor, age almost 11, lineman on offense and defense, expert at Lego building and       Minecraft gaming, a sayer of sayings you cannot forget, and a great big little brother;    ...

  Red Sparks in the Forest Feathery flames flicker among the snow white tree branches. Winged fires they are, cardinals, their brilliant color igniting the feeder as well. In the trees, as many as ten red birds wait their turn at breakfast, along with many future mates. Then a new “Red” arrives, the neighborhood woodpecker, who pecks the suet and sunflower, And flies to the crown of the pine, where he hammers away, perhaps just to keep in practice. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, made even more colorful by those on the wing.

  A World Washed with White Outside my window, a slight movement in the faint morning light… It’s those snow sprites again drifting down the sky, Wispy snowflakes covering all with white. White sky, white trees, white ground. Now they’ve made the very air white, As well as my snow shovel awaiting me on the white porch, Overlooking my driveway, white for the third morning in a row. Those sprites want to keep me exercising. Oh well, Wisconsin winter means shoveling snow, While also enjoying its pristine beauty. 

  Earth in the Heavens, Heaven on Earth Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot” Earth a tiny point of light in the Vast An inconceivable distance from the nearest heavenly body Our Earth is in Heaven How to make the Earth reflect the Heaven it’s in? How to make a Heaven on Earth? Earth’s nature has been to evolve into ever-higher forms of Life Interdependent Don’t we need to get out of Nature’s way To stop the pollution of the Natural World To enhance Life rather than kill it To stop the killing of our own Species To be stewards of the piece of Heaven that is our own planet To be protectors of our Water, Air, and the Natural World of which we are a part To preserve these, now and for future generations… The purity of the snow The sweet sap of the sugar maple The upturned limbs of the spruce The curious family of deer The eye of the owl The clear waters of the lake The breath of pure air The beating of one’s own heart and countless others This Earth is, to us, Heaven. We need to treat it with ...

  White  A world transformed in its sleep, Last days of fall became winter overnight. Spruce trees dressed for the occasion in their white gowns. Once a gaunt, leafless maple is now a frosted wonder, snow adorning every twig. Good-packing snow waits for a snow man to appear. Bird feeders look like cakes with thick, vanilla frosting. A  carpet of moonglow-white covers the ground. And peace pervades the land, a winter stillness.

  Old Sensation Birds seem to chirp in otherwise half-deaf ears. Vision is murky with floaters, and double, except when corrected by glasses. Hands and lower back are painful, skin itchy. Smell and taste senses are good, perhaps too good, what with expanding girth. Proprioception, the 6th sense of self-movement, is weakened, the body wobbly. Good thing, for a poet, the 7th sense is still tuned - the good sense to perceive metaphor. The tide ebbs, but it’s still enough to float the boat.

  I am One with the Universe Today I will turn the sun on. I will enlighten the night with lunar light. Tomorrow I will let fly bundles of snow. I will unleash the wind. I will keep the globe tilting, spinning, and flying through space. Sound to you like delusions of grandeur? No, simply a realization of the divine in every being in this world, even me… However small my part in the vast universe of things. One thing I can do that’s limitless -  I can love

  The Best Santa Claus Ever A fellow of proper age, girth, and beard. Ruddy-red cheeks, real snow-white whiskers, And a belly, when he laughed, “like a bowlful of jelly.” The perfect Santa. If I were a kid, I’d believe him to be real. And I patted him on the shoulder, and told him so. But, as is often the case with three-year olds, Our little grandson August was shy, and stayed away. Probably too different in appearance, what with his red clothes and cap. The whiskers wouldn’t have scared him. His Daddy has more.

  Bone Set in Stone Asleep for millenia Dormant, cold as stone Until now, unearthed Slithering lizards awaken in the light Epic struggles between monstrous beasts Once caught in death, then changed to solid rock Their bones fossilized, preserved for ages Speak volumes of a long-ago time What will our stony bones say? Mass graves? People brought down by war machines? On which billions were spent While millions die of hunger and disease And climate change Totally avoidable We’re supposed to be evolved Way beyond the dinosaurs Will our fate be the same as theirs?

  Love Waits Don’t be scared Express your pain Put it in words and tears Spit it out Don’t let it eat you inside And hold you back in fear Being alone in the dark is scarey Open yourself to the light of another Let their light surround you Then let it in Let it in and let it shine

  Love in Landay      Landay is an Afghan form of poetry, a couplet - nine syllables in the first line and thirteen in      the second line. Landay has themes of love, grief, homeland, war, and separation. Here is       my attempt at seven of them. To love now, love later, love always? To learn to love always is why we are on this Earth. What can stand in the way of true love? Fear, anger, sadness dissolves in the presence of love. What is it that diminishes love? The wise say it is fear that prevents us from loving. Why is it that we humans have fear? Fear is a signpost that tells us where we need to grow. Why is it so hard sometimes to love? We have been hurt before and built a wall to protect. The wall of fear is formidable. Fear protects us from pain but limits our loving life. It is for us to destroy fear’s wall. The result, unconditional love.

  Our Fate - and the Natural World’s - is Our Responsibility Through the leafless November trees, Streaks of red and blue in the dawning sky. A grand sunrise highlights the sleeping trees And reminds us that, without them, we are nothing. We need to protect these last wild places, And the buck and doe that just hurried by. We have their fate - and ours - in our hands.

  Too Many      Sendo okushite fune yama ni noboru      Japanese: Too many captains will row the boat up the mountain. Too many cooks spoil the soup. Too many directions confuse the child. Too many bosses ruin the result. Too many experts wreck the work. Too many words lose the listener. I’ll leave it at that.

  Water: A Day in the Life Fogs and mists Rains and pours Spindrifts and sprays Surges and swells Churns and chops Floods and flows Springs up and spouts Wells up in waves Bubbles and breaks Eddies and erodes Cascades and crests Runs and ripples Torrents and trickles Seeps and weeps Slushes and sloshes Drips and drops Gushes and washes Races and runs Then, downhill, disappears

  Doer and Dreamer I’m right-handed.  It’s the doer. It’s used more, therefore stronger, more calloused than the left. But also more practical in its motions, more practiced in getting the job done, more real world. The left is softer, closer to the heart, receptive, the dream hand. If I use the pen in my left hand, will that elicit poems of the heart, even evoke dreams? Stay tuned. I’ll give “left handed poetry” a try. 

  An Accident for a Reason Accidents happen. Or do they? Aren’t they caused? What was the reason for mine last year, When I broke ribs and went unconscious? For me, several lessons… A lesson in compassion for those disabled, A lesson in love from those who came together in my support, A lesson in awareness of the dangers of ageing. Hopefully I learned my lessons, especially the one on the force of gravity.

  Fall, Not the Season While loading stones in a pick-up To push them in, I jumped up The next thing I know, I am under tow To the hospital to undergo a work-up What happened was I slipped Off the bumper of the truck I flipped More I don’t know as my head took a blow As below consciousness instantly I dipped And, not only the concussion, But also rib fragmentation Six were smashed in what was a flash What happens with an Earth collision