Five - Seven - Five

Brown leaf on oak branch
Won’t fly as fall’s wind blows through
But must yield to snow.

Five - Seven - Five - Seven - Seven

Trees grow up through tracks.
These days, no trains roll our way.
Weeds crack old wood ties.
Red rust gnaws at long steel rails.
The past rides on, out of view.

Lyrics - Save a Place for Jenny

Jenny was born to be a healer
With gentle hands and kind and caring way
She played nurse to her three little brothers
And rescued the lambs that went astray

No husband ever claimed Jenny
She was content with her life on the farm
She worked hard for her mama and papa
And guarded her brothers from harm

Save a place at the table for Jenny
She’s wandering out in the fields again today
She might be binding up a bird with a broken wing
or seeking shelter for some poor lost stray

Too often a sweet peace is broken
by guns that call brothers to fight
one by one those boys up and left the farm
turning Jenny’s sweet day to night

Jenny set the table each evening
For each brother she knew would return
She waited with her mama and papa
as the battles continued to burn

One day a call went out for nurses
to tend men wounded and sick from the war
Jenny knew in her heart she must answer that plea
she said farewell at the farmhouse door

Save a place at the table for Jenny
She’s wandering out in the fields again today
She might be binding up a bird with a broken wing
or seeking shelter for some poor lost stray

Jenny joined an army of angels
who faced a battle with death every day
They bound up the wounded with loving care
and for the dying they just eased the way

One last battle took a grievous toll
Jenny tended to the hurt through the night
But her heart could bear no more suffering
They found her dead by the morning light

All her brothers came back to the homeplace
And in their hearts for the past they did yearn
But they wept to sit at the table
Knowing Jenny would never return

Save a place at the table for Jenny
She’s wandering out in the fields again today
She might be binding up a bird with a broken wing
or seeking shelter for some poor lost stray

Fallen Tree Near Red Bridge

Water drowns the tree
toppled by last night’s cold wind.
Fish swim among leaves.
Who will set the tree up straight
back on its river bank perch?

The Broken Coffee Cup Blues

It was my last remaining coffee cup
now it’s just pieces on the floor.
Why did you have to throw that cup
when you walked out the door?
I’m sort of sad you left me,
but it was time to say goodbye.
But you know you could of shook my hand
instead of letting that one good cup fly.
How will I drink my coffee
now that my one good cup is gone?
I have pot full of fresh coffee
but my one good cup is gone.
I can’t drink my coffee right out of the pot.
I know it’s time for me to roam.
Goodbye and good riddance
you’ve given me no choice.
I’ll go stepping out for my coffee now
You’re making me rejoice
for the freedom from home brewing
and a chance to meet somebody new.
Guess I’ll throw on my coat
and head down to the corner.
Gonna get me a table for two.

McClinchy's

(First draft of new lyrics)

He believed in his whisky
like a cure for his ills
as if he was snake-bit all the time
whisky was the slow soft death
it suited him just fine

Tuesday night at McClinchy's
She just wandered in
dazed from the cold and the pain
McClinchy's looked warn
in bar light glow
a haven from the cold bitter rain
If she'd known that he'd be there
she'd have just kept walking
He was cold in her heart
that was true
but she was sitting
and waiting for a glass of cheap red
before she knew he was sitting there too
He raised a glass, an old gesture
she stared straight ahead
but in the bar's mirror he was looking at her too
so she stared into the wine
like a prayer an incantation
He said
"If you're here, it can't be good news."

He believed in his whisky
like a cure for his ills
as if he was snake-bit all the time
whisky was the slow soft death
it suited him just fine

One glass of red was enough to warm her
two could ease her pain
and three made him warmer in her heart
by closing, she had missed the late train

They stumbled together through the
late night mist
to his walk-up down by the tracks
In the grey light of morning
she knew she was going
to leave him again
as always, for the last time

He believed in his whisky
like a cure for his ills
as if he was snake-bit all the time
whisky was the slow soft death
it suited him just fine

McClinchy's on Main Street
is down by the tracks
where the trains from the city roll in
The whisky is cheap
and it's dark and it's quiet
if you stop there
you'll be back again

Fibonacci MTA

The
train
wheels us.
Wheels us to
the big dream city.
We spend the day imagining.
Lost in life just beyond the limits of what might be.