A Song for Time

And the note begins before the music
And the music never ends

I’ve loved the music in your voice
And your gentle sounds of silence

I’ve dreamed of the whispers and sighs
Of your lonely lows and gleeful highs

Oh the note begins before the music
And the music never ends

When I close my eyes and listen hard
The melody flows through my mind

Of gentle touches, graceful brushes
The quiet rush of my heart songs trills

Oh the note begins before the music
And the music never ends
And though my ears won’t hear the music
The music never ends

7:24

Hickory dickory dock
My eyes can’t stand the shock
The clock flowed down
Its face a frown

And exclaimed quite loudly
What the fuck?

Higgledy piggledy math
No victims escape its wrath
It all added up
No murmurs of s’up

We were so deep in it
We had to laugh

Hippity hoppity boo
There remains but one thing to do
If we flee for our souls
We might escape the coals

Before any of the hunters
Manage to

6:22

Once a day, so the story goes,
The sun will rise to a brand-new pose

The masses cheer and celebrate
Sit back, relax and learn the fate

Of heroes bold and maidens fair
And of that itch in their underwear

But the pace is hard, the timing brutal
With results akin to soggy wet noodle

But never fear, do not despair
With each new day there’s more to share

And if we wait oh so patiently
We’ll see something good, eventually.

 

5:31

Rabbits are always late

I’m late, I’m late
Late getting started
Out the gate

No time, it’s fine
Just write something funny
That will rhyme

With hares, and snares
Trapping rabbits et al.
A tale most fair

Beavers bouncing
Closed crates also jouncing
Uncomfortable fling

If words might fail
Baffle them all with lies
About the whale o’ a tale

 

Sometimes I float alone in time
Bobbing up and down
Occasionally I stroke my arms
And wonder where I am

Other days I swim in schools
Of unknown people and places
Vigorously I kick and flail
To try to match their paces

The currents flow coldly past my soul
Driving me back to the beginning
To start again in a sad attempt
Shall we do it right this time?

There are many agents of time and fate
Weaving tales around us
I try to break their uncaring embrace
But fall back in their fold

The goose flies on ’til it arrives
A salmon fights ’til death
The bear wakes each frigid spring
And starts again its quests

But must I deal throughout my time
With missions, fates and monotony
Striving on to unknown goals
At sea in my vast regrets

Or can I awake, rise up from the flow
And stand above the land
To watch the beauty of here and now
And breathe in my own plan?

 

4:17

Did you ever wonder the sounds you might make
If ever you were a beaver at the bottom of a lake?
Would you spit like your mouth was full of fish oil?
Would all of that talking make the water bubble and boil?
Did you ever wonder if it would be bad
To talk underwater with your neighbour lake shad?

Did you ever wonder the noise bunnies make
When you sneak up behind them like a slithery grass snake?
If you jump up and scream at the top of your lungs,
What sort of noise trips off the fluffy bunny’s tongue?
Do they tilt back their heads, emit earsplitting squeals
Or growl and bark loudly like angry wet seals?

And if bunnies and beavers were ever to talk
Would it sound like a tiny mouse or an angry bird’s squawk?
Would everyone look and all the heads turn,
Or would all hide their heads and all their ears burn?

Well, I think the noise would make heads whirl like a top,
And everyone would yell, Would you two please stop!

 

4:3

Ah April.

April brings
In its basket so pale
Flowers and leaves
And the return of the whales

A time for everything
No matter how big or how small
To refresh and renew
All that was lost in the fall

But I like the spring
Because without fail
It always brings with it
His sweet cottontail.

3:7

When Barney was 10 years old he wrote a poem:

Crushing bugs and
Squishing slugs
Plucking wings from
Icky things

Trapping rats in
Smelly mats
Capturing frogs
From under logs

I like the creatures
That wiggle and squeak
With furry tails and scaly feet

I collect their bits
In my grubby mitts
Fist full of tails
Store them in jails

I dream of having a menagerie
Caged and tamed, all
Creatures of water, rock and tree

 

2:8

From the speakers wedged in the corner over the barista a slow tune slipped out into the room, joining the noise of the patrons and the espresso machines yet somehow owning a distinct space in the atmosphere of the coffee shop. It was a new song by a band that had got its start on an amateur show at a local radio station and had never looked back once they’d move up and out.

I’ve got time on my mind
And time’s never been kind

I’ve miles to run
And the road ain’t no fun

So why do I keep on going
Fighting the way the river’s flowing
Why do I always fight the current
And why do I always get burned

I just wanna give up
But I know I never will
I just wanna give up
Roll on down the hill

Ain’t enough enough?
Don’t care shit ’bout that stuff

My mind says stop
My heart’s just full to the top

So why do I keep on going
Fighting the way the river’s flowing
Why should I always fight the current
I don’t want to always get burned

I just wanna give up
But I know I never will
I just wanna give up
Roll on down the hill

Christ I want to get off
But I know you can’t back off

Someone’s just driving you
Creeping all that you do

Screw them all, fuck that noise
They don’t mean shit to me
I need to fight to be free
Of them and their creeper toys

So that’s why I keep on going
Fighting the way it’s all flowing
That’s why I always fight current
Screaming as all I am gets burned

I ain’t gonna give up
I know that I never will
I can wanna just give up
But I’ll roll on up the hill

I ain’t gonna give up
I know I never will
We can wanna give up
But we’ll roll on up the hill

Roll on up that fuckin’ hill

The song slowed to its  end and, as if everyone had been using the musical conversation as part of their personal narratives, the entire room lapsed into silence at the same time. Into that small but oddly profound moment of silence Gareth’s voice flowed clearly through the small room. “No, I don’t fucking understand. Why don’t you just fucking explain it for once?”

 

13

The Day the Beaver Came

Castor canadensis,
Swept through morning fog
Neither contrite nor wary,
Seeming compatriot on his daily jog.

Canadian beaver,
Surveying his current pond
No matter to him,
Environs now concrete and lawn.

Sole Homo sapiens,
Young and brave, full of inaction,
Stares from the perimeter,
Bereft of a relevant faction.

The beaver pauses,
At the end of the lane
Boldly he glances,
At a young man’s sadness and pain.

“Why be alone,
When you have yourself?”
He utters quite softly,
“Nothing else ever provides such wealth.”

“Come, I will teach you,
The joy of the solitary”
He smiled and approached,
“Let us avant and be merry.”

So boy and beaver,
Trod on into dawn
Not one any longer,
Now the companions of song.