"Story of Life "

"Story of Life "

Greg Budig 2021

Friendships are like time capsules. 

Some very old, some very new. 

Reflections of all that we have seen. 

Some are false, some are true. 

Experience has aged us. 

Sometimes good, sometimes bad. 

Friendships leave their mark on us. 

Think of all the friends we've had.

(chorus)

Such is the story of life. 

A story of all we've seen. 

Through all the good 

and all the bad. 

All that was and 

might have been. 

The teenage years of being dumb. 

Of learning as we go. 

Of struggling with who we are. 

Good friends would let you know. 

Becoming adults with all our faults.

We stumble while persisting. 

Making so many damn mistakes. 

Too many to bother listing. 

(chorus)

Such is the story of life. 

A story of all we've seen. 

Through all the good 

and all the bad. 

All that was and 

might have been.

Age has made us wiser, we hope. 

Friendships keep us connected. 

Looking back at all that's passed. 

Was it everything we expected?

So drink a glass of something strong. 

Remembering all we befriended. 

Cheers to all who have left us.

We wished it had never ended. 

(chorus)

Such is the story of my life. 

A story of all we've seen. 

Through all the good 

and all the bad. 

All that was and 

might have been.

Such is the story of my life. 

A story of all we've seen. 

Through all the good 

and all the bad. 

All that was and 

might have been.

The End. 

"Strange Tonight"

 

"Strange Tonight"

Greg Budig 2021

Stepping outside 

felt strange tonight. 

Something was wrong 

with the sky, the air, the 

whole atmosphere was off. 

A haze had settled, 

fueled by fires that burned 

the northern horizon.

I could smell the drought 

and scorched timbers. 

There was such heaviness.

An ominous feeling of 

underlying dread. Feeling the 

need to speak softly as not 

 to disturb nature's imbalance. 

When high above through 

smoke stained clouds, 

appeared a curious orb.

Mysterious and haunting,

it broke through the shroud. 

As if an unannounced 

eclipse or a shift in the 

planets had caused the 

moon to turn blood orange.

It sat like a pumpkin in the sky. 

Just a moment in time 

that will soon pass away,

but the eerie glow will 

burn in my memory. 

Like Halloween in July. 

The End 

"Simply Exhale"

 

"Simply Exhale"

Greg Budig 2021

Close your eyes.

Feel the breeze caress 

the tired and well 

worn creases on your 

time weathered face. 

Life has tested 

you, made you weary.

It has caused you to 

hide away inside the 

safety of these walls. 

Do not turn your 

back to the wind!

Let it's full force clean 

away the layers you 

have acquired over time. 

Breathe it in deeply. 

Fill your lungs and 

hold it inside. 

Let it cleanse you...

and then simply exhale. 

The End 

"Farmer's Prayer"

"Farmer's Prayer"

Greg Budig 2021

The sun scowls 

red against the 

rose colored dawn. 

It has barely 

risen and it seems 

angry and ominous. 

No sign of rain, 

not even a chance. 

Parched and broken 

the grass has gone to 

rest. Even the scraggly,

tough weeds look sick. 

Haze settles over 

everything around noon. 

The sky is clear but 

not blue. It is as lifeless 

as the stone filled river. 

Barely a trickle remains. 

A farmer casts his gaze 

across the yellowing 

field. Soybeans huddle 

sadly near the soil. 

So much effort planted 

into this ground. 

Faith is so easily 

shaken. You stare upon 

everything you've worked 

for as it shrivels and 

dies in the hardened 

and lifeless soil.

As a man of God 

you feel abandoned. 

So many words spoken 

in silence, but still there is 

no rain. No relief, why 

have you forsaken me?

He turns away from the 

withering fields and walks

 slowly. He has said his piece. 

In the distance the sky darkens 

 as the gentle thunder begins 

to rumble across the plains. 

The End 

"Serenity Dawns"

 

"Serenity Dawns"

Greg Budig 2021

The morning sun 

lurked just below 

the distant shoreline. 

Softly the glow spreads

behind the maples and 

pines, it moves smoothly 

across the horizon. 

The water was so still,

glass like and perfect.

Reflections were tranquil 

and rare. Only broken by 

the ripple of surfacing 

bluegills. Feasting on 

mayflies and nymphs. 

 

To breathe in the air 

was to absorb the very 

atmosphere. Scented by 

water, lily pads and reeds.  

It's richness invaded all 

parts of your senses.

It soothed the ailing mind. 

Serenity dawns on 

all those who listen. 

Who seek out the peace 

to be found near the shore. 

If you wait long enough 

you might find the answer. 

Or forget all the questions 

you once had before. 

The End 

"Nothing Moves"

"Nothing Moves"

Greg Budig 2021

Suspended in my cocoon.

Waiting for something. 

I am not a tired 

metaphor of a 

butterfly in rebirth.

I am more like a moth

searching for the light. 

There are days spent in 

hiding when nothing 

moves.  Being stuck 

between wanting and not 

wanting to stir. Sometimes 

words are pathetic, 

but need to be said. 

Strange, but I'm not 

looking for pity, though 

that's how it seems. 

I'm just silently sifting 

through where I have been. 

Words can be healing 

when honestly said. 

Think about life as 

it scurries in passing. 

Cherish every second 

that clicks from each day. 

I have learned that life's

fleeting, so painfully true.

Remember this when 

nothing moves. 

The End 

"The Fog"

"The Fog"

Greg Budig 2021

The fog seemed too 

heavy to be real.

Entombed inside the 

heavy grey veil of a 

suffocating atmosphere. 

Everything was muffled,

even my thoughts. 

We slipped out onto 

the water. Pontooning 

into the heaviness of dawn.

Searching for panfish and 

what else lies below. 

Our eyes strained to 

listen for oncoming boats. 

Mysterious was the fog 

as we crept across the 

unbroken water. 

To the side a bass rippled 

the mirror of the pond. 

Senses tingled as we 

anchor off the sandbar. 

Slip bobbers set to 

nine feet below us. 

Small jigs tipped with 

some grubs and worms. 

Floating on the surface, 

unaware of what's below us. 

Waiting is all we can do. 

Everything is a mystery, 

the dullness of the morning.

The fog has trapped 

us, unable to lift.

The air and the water 

cannot be divided. 

Waiting is all we can do. 

The End 

"Forgotten"

 

"Forgotten"

Greg Budig 2021

I awoke near the open 

window. The softness of 

summer slowly crept 

into my room. It was 

perfumed by the darkness 

and yesterday's rain. 

How had I forgotten this?

I had slept so many hours, 

but maybe just a minute, 

the memories soon 

awoke in my head. 

Feeling lost had become 

a way of living, of losing 

touch with everything. 

 

I had forgotten about waking 

in the early morning dark

to drink my coffee and 

make my plans for the day. 

Watching the nighthawks head 

home to roost and the robins 

start singing before dawn. 

Forgotten the sound 

of fishing line peeling 

off the reel on a silent,

tranquil lake.  Seeing the 

bobber twitch before it 

slips beneath the surface. 

Feeling the line tighten.

Forgotten about standing 

on the edge of the unbroken 

prairie as it spread across 

the ancient horizon. 

Listening to the bird song 

emanating from the 

lushness of the grass. 

Forgotten the feel of the 

uninterrupted breeze that 

flows endlessly across the 

expanse of Stevens county. 

Forgotten that I was born 

there and may never 

fully return. 

Somehow I 

had forgotten. 

The End