Tag Archives: night

Day

From where I live in the country, on the prairie of Illinois, due east, the horizon sits a little beyond the distant interstate highway and railroad, that parallels on its west side.  The night time creeps in there first in its sneaky, varied transitioning forms.

It is always a delight and inspiration to view nature in its changing moods.  Often, these changes are all around us and yet appear ‘invisible’ to us as we focus our attention elsewhere on other things.  However, ever so often, our moods and infrequent calmness allow us to witness and ‘feel’ some of these times when nature is in transition.  In this case, the transition is the ‘undressing’ of day.

Sitting, facing east, the feeling is pristine when the air is still, the birds are quietly bedding down, the horses stand in fixed repose against the barn, the air is ‘feelable,’  the horizon’s ‘shade’ is nearly down, the city’s lights – five miles northeast –  are blurred in mist,  you can barely make out the silhouetted trees, and the haze over the corn disappears ever so slightly, sneakily before your very eyes….’til you can barely see your own hands in the darkness that ‘plopped’ down on you and everything all around.  One minute, all that beauty  is there and then….gone….surrendered to darkness and the forthcoming end of day.  What’s left is the recap of it all….the reaping of the value that was bestowed upon us for the taking.  My recommendation would be to ‘take it all in’ sometime, when you get a chance.

Hoping you have great, whole days!

 

Day

 

Dropping down, a dusky mist
is settling on the corn.
Far off city lights resist;
disappear to be reborn.
The horizon’s shade is nearly down
silhouetted trees stand tall;
the night time is beckoning…. her call.

The country night is quiet and still;
the grass now moist with dew.
The horizon shade is down until
it brings back day….anew.
But until then the darkness basks
‘til the night of ‘day’ is done
and the ‘whole’ of day has made its distance run.

Day is only part of ‘day;’
Night is one part, too.
So if one part, you’re in dismay
the ‘other’ might bring you through.
So don’t give up if the day starts bad
go deep where heart is strong
and life will move more smoothly….along.

© copyright 2012 t. j. gargano

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Forgive and Live

Forgive and Live

 

Stillness looms across the field.
The moon, not full, is bright
Silhouetted trees do yield
the pleasantness of night.
In quietness, the beauty’s shone
as a tear slips from the eye
and you drift into dream…. ‘neath the sky.

Awakened to the sound on distant track
the northbound’s coming through.
the moving lights mean she is back
and all is right and true.
Missing her has meant a lot
it’s time to tell her so
It’s time to live the only life, you know.

It’s time to do what must be done.
It’s time to love….and live
It’s time to start the distant run
stop judging and forgive
For time is fleeting; that’s for sure
so hug her tight each day
and chase the constant, nagging blues….away.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

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Filed under dreams, Life, Love

‘Big Weave’

Living in the country affords some luxuries, one of which is having lots of bonfires and gatherings of friends and family, around them.  Over the years, our gatherings have included games when all the ‘kids’ were young, always guitars and singing, and…always Uncle Steve (‘Big Weave’) entertaining everyone with his numerous jokes and stories fresh from the ‘road.’  He was honored as a ‘Million Mile’ hauler.

‘ Big Weave’

His name is ‘Big Weave’ and his size could deceive in the
shadows of the bonfire at night,
and no one quite knew why the wind always blew ‘round
in circles from left to right.
He always seemed cold whenever he told exciting
stories as the wind blew hard
as he circled the fire without any ire, holding tight
to a stick from the yard.

The shadows he cast in the darkness didn’t last like
the stories remembered by all
of his truck driving days and all of the ways he
managed to answer the call
of driving through rain, over hilly terrain; to the cities
in his big rig, he’d go
and deliver his load then back on the road
to a place that they’d soon let him know.

He stops at a chair…. and…. in a stern stare, lays down
the stick on its side
and continues a tale while he picks up a pail
and empties on the fire, what’s inside.
The flames burst high, sending embers to the sky
with people moving back from the heat
and there’s chuckles in his talk, though he never stops his walk
and together they lose not a beat.

The fires have burned as the years have turned and yet
the gatherings prevail,
and while…. there’s less song, the talk is still long
and the food doesn’t live to be stale.
And the younger ones boast, as their marshmallows roast,
‘bout their dreams and what they believe,
but me, I just wait, like a fish for the bait, for the
bonfire stories from ‘Big Weave.’

The fires will claim, though they won’t be to blame, the
chairs that will empty in time,
And it’s easy to dream about what it will seem like
when years have completed the rhyme.
But they’ve burned for years through smiles and tears
and kept us all warm in the light.
So the hope is they’ll burn…. at every year’s turn
and the memories will flame…. strong and bright.

© 2012  t. j. gargano

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Filed under Big, Blogging, countryside, Family, Friends, goodbyes, highways

Night Work

For a stretch in my life, I chose to be a  night worker; a 3rd shift night manager of a major retail store.  Suffice to say, for those who have done it, going from working day hours to night hours, requires more than a marginal adjustment.  I wrote this little poem back during my then, adjustment.

Night Work

Sleep now, I must
before the day is passed away.
The clock hands say it’s twenty ’til two
I clearly see it say.

The nights, to me, are days.
The days must turn to night.
But it’s hard to sleep the hours away
in midst of lovely light.

I try to read to drowsiness
that sleep may soon come on.
But ‘fools’ sleep  stays beside me,
only ‘Time’ is passed and gone.

Fine textured cloth nor tattered shade
can subdue the lovely light,
nor keep the hours from burning away
into another night.

Sleep now, I must
before the day is passed away.
The clock hands say it’s eight o’clock
Oh no! It’s another day!

copyright © 2012 T.J. Gargano

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Prairie Night

As much as I love the mountains, it is the prairie where I have lived all my life.  And the prairie is full of mystique and wonder, even today with all the sprawling communities that have compromised its uniqueness.  Still, it is fun to find a quiet spot on a quiet night ‘neath a million stars and, sitting there, listen for a hoot owl, or a coyote’s call or deer side-swiping through the thicket.  Listen….

Prairie Night

A cradle moon hangs quietly, spinning moonbeams in the sky.
A field mouse sees its twinkle in an owl’s distant eye.
And a beaver in the creek and a possum in a tree,
go on with what they’re doing, made easier by the light
that comforts those sleeping in the quiet prairie night.

The hooting of a hoot owl spears the thick and silent dark,
joined in chorus, sometimes, by a dog’s faint distant bark.
A fox guards his borough from raccoon near by
skirmishing for food, their eyes shining bright,
piercing the darkness of the late prairie night.

A sudden gust of wind brings a murmur from the trees
as the darkened, shadowy sentinels are startled by the breeze.
A doe and her babies sneak quietly to the stream,
ever so cautious of what lurks in the light
sent from above to adorn the prairie night.

The sky is full of twinkling stars,
streaks of clouds are high and thin.
The moon is brightly shining but
where is the prairie wind?

The trees stand in silence.
The crickets chirp in tune.
Haze hides the horizon
as a mystical stillness looms.

Farmstead lights shine faintly
like the city lights from afar.
The prairie night is winning
but the prairie morn’s, not far.

copyright © 2011 T.J. Gargano

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