Ground Blizzard
The ground slides
Out from beneath you.
The sky is endlessly blue.
The earth is a frozen haze.
Driving across a moving
Landscape on asphalt and ice.
The yellow line blurs, you
Feel disoriented, confused.
The north wind is relentless.
Angry gusts ravage the treeless
Prairie leaving it breathless.
The atmosphere has frozen.
Even the sun wears an icy halo.
Ditches fill as the road
Disappears.
Last Conversation
I struggle
To remember the
Last time that we spoke
You were dying
And in a way
So was I.
Conversations
Become trivial once
We begin to grow old.
We thought we knew
All we needed
To know.
I tried to speak
In the room before
They gave you last rites.
But the medication
Had already taken
Its toll.
As I drove
You from the hospital
For the very last time,
All you could say
Was that you wanted
To go home.
I'm angry that
We never really
Said our last words.
We were like strangers
Waiting for the last
Bus to leave.
I was holding
Your hand as you
Peacefully left. You
Kept saying that you
Needed to go.
I guess I loved you
Too much to say
Goodbye.
"Beneath"
Frozen surfaces stretch across
Vast winter landscapes.
Meandering clumps of cattails
Reveal the hidden banks
Through the snow.
Buried below the
Lifeless tundra, the
Full weight of winter
Settles like a tomb.
The river valley sleeps
In stillness and quiet.
January still lingers
Outside February's
Back door.
Hidden from view,
You begin to wonder
If it even exists.
But the river still
Flows freely
Beneath it all.
Surging around stones,
Racing to the southern gulf.
Life continues beneath the
Unbroken ice shell.
You may not often see it,
But the river is
Still there.
"Somber"
Greg Budig 2022
Somber is the day not yet started,
But is almost over. You can
Taste the melancholy
In everything.
Weariness doesn't always come
From running the race,
It can be from just
Waiting to start.
This wasn't intentional. This
Wasn't the plan. This
Just doesn't seem
Real anymore.
"Now I Drink Tea"
Greg Budig 2022
It wasn't a favorite…
Boxes of green tea found
Abandoned in a cluttered spice
Cabinet in the kitchen.
I can't throw anything away.
It tasted like grass…
But I am mulish.
My cup runneth over with
Germanic pride.
Scalding water drowns the
Little paper bags.
Feeling genteel,
Burning my lips
I persisted.
I now drink tea.
"Lengthen"
Greg Budig 2022
The days slowly lengthen.
Unannounced and unnoticed.
But the bullfrogs and
The garter snakes know.
Field mice waiting in
Underground dens and
Inside the garage
Are aware.
Majestic maples and
Weathered twisted oaks can
Feel their sap begin
To move.
Shadows begin stretching across
The ice crusted snow fields.
Days keep getting longer.
The earth shifts on its axis.
The days slowly lengthen.
"The Fire"
Greg Budig 2022
Safe within the circle of
The sacred winter fire.
Holding back
The darkness to
Keep us in the light.
Eyes reflect the
Passing of time.
How long
Have you been
Beside the fire?
Holding back
The darkness to
Keep us in the light.
Frozen faces appear
Ghostly outside the
Fires circle. Seeking
Refuge from the demons
living in the darkness.
"Unremarkable"
Greg Budig 2022
The gray of the sky reflected
The color of the snow.
It was somber, dull,
Unremarkable.
Houses sat quietly and talked
To the empty, naked trees.
"How was your day?"
Unremarkable.
Every day can't be memorable.
Some need to be ordinary.
Most days are usually
Unremarkable.
Greg Budig 2022
The skeleton maples stood in line
Along the frozen
Boulevard.
They had replaced the mighty elms
Who died in a
Pandemic.
No one ever considered blaming
The Dutch people for the
disease.
There was no reason...
"Evening Comes"
Slow muted colors wash the horizon.
Faded veils mixing day and night.
Transforming.
Becoming
Darkness.
I am transfixed by the subtle grace
Of nature's constant passing.
This is nothing unusual.
This is real life.
Nothing remarkable...
But very grand.
"Theatre Surreal"
Greg Budig 2022
Raising the curtains on
An illusionist vision.
Bizarrely walking on
The celestial sphere.
The audience stirs
In the cheap seats.
Pointed curved antlers
Emerge slowly from
The darkness.
Curtains tremble as
Madame Gizelda
Takes the stage.
Her captivating
Presence has raised
Such a fervor.
The matinee
Crowd erupts
Into song.
Mystical chariots race
Across the backdrop.
Magnificent jellyfish
Sail through the
Nautical dream.
Who said
Live theater
Was dead?
The End
"Hitchcock's Vision"
Greg Budig 2022
Soaring
white
multitudes.
Blurred wings
disrupt the
solitude of
the canal's
pungent
still air.
Inside my
mind fidgets.
Hitchcock's
vision
haunts me.
The crashing
waves stir
my anxiety
Avian chaos
surrounds me.
My eyes are
covered.
Squawking
and pecking.
High above.
everything
resonates.
Wing tips and
feathers all in
constant motion.
The tide shifts.
The squadrons
of seagulls have
all finally
gone
away.
The End.
PurposeI am guilty of nothing.
Of doing nothing.
Of being nothing.
Spending years
Being ambitious for
Ambitions sake is
Sometimes hard to
Maintain.
Lately I haven't
Had anyone to impress or
Nowhere really to be.
That can be
Considered wrong
I suppose.
Purpose is decided
By outside forces.
Something I would
Consider as
Not me.
Following rules
For so many years.
I need to follow
Myself.
I'm probably
Wrong...
But for today
I really do
Not
Care.
