And like the pepper 
as we age we 
do develop different colors 
and hopefully our spiciness
never diminishes but maybe 
it adopts a new 
patina causing those who 
know to appreciate it 
Almost everything when fresh
is allegedly better sought 
after then quickly consumed 
but there are other 
things that when aged 
become even more treasured 
especially by those who 
are willing to wait 

If the mountains were 
trees I’d know north
for from my little 
birdhouse tucked quietly under 
the arm of this 
concrete monolith I can 
see that moss has 
crept up the sides 
of the foot hills 
Oh I know that
mountains aren’t trees and 
the moss that I 
see indeed are but 
there’s something to be 
said about the scale 
of life for don’t
we all believe that 
we’re giants living in 
our own little worlds 

There are some days 
when everyone seems happy 
and interested and welcoming 
and then well then 
there are some others 
when the whole world 
seems to be falling 
apart as though a
lynch pin wiggled its 
way free sending tractor 
in one direction and 
cart careening into another 
which do you attempt 
to halt that which 
has direction or that
which has absolutely none 
I’d let the tractor 
go for it will
find its rut and 
carry merrily on unaware 
I’d chase the cart
for it doesn’t know 
where it ever belongs 
now on its own 
unhitched from the tractor 
The cart is up 
for one hell of 
an adventure I’d say