Van Damien
Babyface
Where are you
Where will you be
When the sky comes calling
Crashing at your door
When the Angels
Spinning out of control
Come complaining
Screaming for more
But not really getting it at all
Missing the essential element
Where will you be
When apologetic clouds
Crowd your front porch
Demanding
Iced tea and attention
Letting slip such welcome
Yet self conscious drops
And sunshine,
Shyly sitting in the shadow
Back where you keep
The shovel and the shotgun
Trying not to shine
Where will you be
Where will you be
What if the wind arriving
cyclonic invasion
Like an idea spoken before
Being thought
Should disturb the dust of you contentment
Interrupting the rythym of the
Rusting rocking chair
On the front stoop of your life's work
what have you weathered
to merit this peace
to inherit this place
what scraps of leaves have curled and swirled
like pets around your feet
what enduring vistas has nature left as conversation
inalterable and inspirational
there will be time for both
the shovel and
the shotgun
invasions of visitors
terrestrial and otherwise
searching for sunrises
seeking solace and shelter
for and from the wind and rain
but in this place
is peace and the steady
rocking of a
brown shoed
tattered, dungaree clad
god
Where will you be
When the sky comes calling
Crashing at your door
When the Angels
Spinning out of control
Come complaining
Screaming for more
But not really getting it at all
Missing the essential element
Where will you be
When apologetic clouds
Crowd your front porch
Demanding
Iced tea and attention
Letting slip such welcome
Yet self conscious drops
And sunshine,
Shyly sitting in the shadow
Back where you keep
The shovel and the shotgun
Trying not to shine
Where will you be
Where will you be
What if the wind arriving
cyclonic invasion
Like an idea spoken before
Being thought
Should disturb the dust of you contentment
Interrupting the rythym of the
Rusting rocking chair
On the front stoop of your life's work
what have you weathered
to merit this peace
to inherit this place
what scraps of leaves have curled and swirled
like pets around your feet
what enduring vistas has nature left as conversation
inalterable and inspirational
there will be time for both
the shovel and
the shotgun
invasions of visitors
terrestrial and otherwise
searching for sunrises
seeking solace and shelter
for and from the wind and rain
but in this place
is peace and the steady
rocking of a
brown shoed
tattered, dungaree clad
god
