in a tent in a valley, above me there a blue jay springs
and the sun lays upon me like it never does
but always seems to when i wake from my outdoor dreams
the alarm clock that i purchased for this place was compliment
i never expected such a beatiful way to wake, by the sundrops
and while honestly the timer is set by the last night’s singing
at least i wake when nature gives me such a shove
into daylight, fish streams, hiking trails and outdoor dreams
a comment to me as early as nature sees fitting
and my compliment to them while the coffee’s percolating, I say;
you remind me of where they used to live
among you, rising, sleeping, screaming
catching what they need to catch
the wage of labor in what they fetch
and once a part, there’s nomore they here
the bluejays don’t remember them, long gone
the fish are all new, and the probably fear us
us children of them have no clue of bluejays
sunshine rays, summer days, winter days
we know the seven-day week, slowly
selling our time away from nature, to work
reading, hammering, negotiating and selling
each of us hoping to fetch enough… something
at least enough to hang us over, and then
we hope and pray to be like them, and wake
with the sunrise, the creek sound, and real ground
to compensate for all the years ungrounded
people dumbfounded by the loss of lives
now buying lifestyles from magazines, trees
and convinced that nature never developed a clock
for waking all of her animals for free
