Mowing the Lawn

Lawn Mowing Poem

Just some basic thoughts on mowing the lawn...
Just some basic thoughts on mowing the lawn… (Image via Pixabay)

This summers been hot, this summers been dry
There ain’t been no rain ceptin fore when I cry
This land has been parched with a powerful thirst
It’ll live that’s for sure, but we need dern rain first
Our water bills growing the checks getting bigger
When we git the mail our knees start to quiver.
I been praying for rain, I’ve sung Sunday songs
Been doing this raindance for all weekend long.
Then out in the west a cloud starts to build
My fingers drum nervous on my window sill
The heavens grow dark parapets in the sky
“Thank the Lord for the rain, and his blessings” says I
The rain it falls hard never ending it seems
Then quickly it stops like awaken from dream.
I burst out of doors as the sun starts to shine
I dance in the light, the prayer answerd was mine.
My grass it grows tall, till the lawnmower screams,
as I cut it down. Now how dumb does that seem?

Looking for other bits of poetry? How about “How I Got Rich Bowhunting”

Crescent Lake

Crescent Lake Poem

A poem for the searchers of freedom.
A poem for the searchers of freedom.

The darkness ahead matches the blackness behind,
I race to the east, racing sunrise.
The place that I’m marching to, is tucked way out of the way,
A place most folks fly over, but I go to play.
Its seas of tall grass and an ocean of sky,
The desolation it seems is a trick for the eye.
If you go to far corners, and crannies, and cracks,
You’ll find bedded mule deer and coyote tracks.
On the power of air you’ll see birds of all kinds,
To go marching with me is to march back in time.
But this is no place for the meek and the lame,
More like a wild stud that has never been tamed.
So what am searching for you may want to ask,
I’m hunting deer, at least that’s half the task.
Sure I have a bow and my quiver is full,
A hunting knife in my pack, bet your ass it ain’t dull.
Though its deer that I’m searching for its freedom I find,
That not granted by men, but by the divine.
It’s a freedom I’m having difficulty nailing down,
But its real as the invisible wind blowing round.
It’s the same that they searched for the past days of old,
The mountain men, longhunters, and those whose stories untold.
It will take to you highs no drug ever could
And cleanses the mind, just makes a body feel good.
You can’t find it in cities where we live in a pile,
But in unbranded country that’s rough and still wild.
So if you’re souls needing cleansed or your searching for something,
Come pitch in with me and we’ll go mule deer hunting.

How I Got Rich Bowhunting

How I Got Rich Bowhunting

How I Got Rich Bowhunting
Listen close if you’re trying to find wealth in this world.

I got a tale that I should keep tucked underneath my hat,
Under lock and key, and just for me, but I’ve seen enough of that.
I’ve made a fortune in this life, almost more than I can bear
And done it all while standing tall shooting arrows through the air.
If you take the time to hear this rhyme and can stand my broken prose
I’ll lead you straight to fortunes gate, a path that few men know.
It’s true a simple stick and string have filled my coffers full,
Cause magics loading in them limbs when I give my string a pull.
Now that I got you listening and if you’ve got the itch,
Lean in near and bend your ear, and learn how I got rich.

I just been working on the weekends, what some would call part-time
Out on the plains of the open range, north of that house of mine.
I leave the house fore sunup, under cover of the night
To the coyote song from days long gone, to my inner bank’s delight
First a yip and then a howl and an excited puppy trill
And there they set, all silhouette, better than any $100 bill.
It fills me up, makes me fat, like a dapper aristocrat
Without a care, in clothes threadbare, and my favorite battered hat.
Then the coyotes disappear in the night so gentle still,
To a hoot owl call, as bright stars fall, like loose change in the till.

I ease up oer a hillside, plop down to face the east
I take my wait, to see God paint, his morning masterpiece.
Grey light it turns to purple, then yellow, orange, and red
I’m cashing checks from where I set, while you’re curled up warm in bed.
Then in the east I see the glow of a burning ball of fire
Life springs up fast from prairie grass as the flaming ball moves higher.
I see a fiercesome prairie hawk hear a whistling mallard wing
From them and sage I draw my wage, and boy does it sure ring.

Then all at once, before my eyes, a mule deer breaks horizon
I take a breath, watch watch his steps, my adrenalin is rising.
He disappears behind a hill, I sneak down in hot pursuit
Like men of old, who mined their gold with the arrows they did shoot.
Providentially our paths do cross, some divine timed intersection
I draw then anchor, aim then fire, a shaft in his direction
My arrows jumps right off my string corkscrewing through the space
Tween him and me, and fortunately, it strikes the perfect place.
Over the pounding of my heart I hear him make a dash,
A crimson trail will soon unveil his trail through golden grass.

With trembling hands and powerless legs I sit and take the time
To count my blessing of the intercession ordered by the great divine.
I sit in patient pause while the warming sun does climb
Minutes pass from my hourglass passed into the endlessness of time.
Before too long I find my prize still warm though spirit gone
Gone to see the great uncertainty, we’ll be reunited fore too long
A somberness subdues my pride, I know my life is but a stich
In a tapestry of the mystery, Thank you God you’ve made me rich.

A final note for folks still hearing these rambling words of mine.
This bloated wealth, meekness, faith, and health, withstands the test of time.
Yep, sure enough, I’m from old money, fortune safe in preservation,
Cause if they can bear it, my kids inherit, the wealth of generation.
It’s true a simple stick and string have filled my coffers full,
Cause magics loading in them limbs when I give my string a pull.

If you enjoy this bowhunting poetry give “Crescent Lake” a read.

Soft Tracks Outdoors

Soft Track in snow

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” – Matthew 6: 26

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Soft tracks through the frozen prairie.

This simple bible verse has fueled my interest in ancient skills. Simply put, this verse shares a wonderful truth with the world: God has created the world, cares for all his creation, and will provide you with everything you need to persevere in this life. For over 100,000 years people lived as an embodiment of this principle neither sowing nor reaping. Nomadic hunters roamed the land believing their needs would be met if they invested the energy.

We know little about the lives of people in pre-history but can assume they were widely diverse across the globe. As you study pockets Paleo people, you do seem to notice a few reoccurring tendencies. The recognition that a higher power existed and influenced the world, and the concept their lives were a small part of a bigger mystery called life seem prevalent across the world.

Another interesting aspect of Paleo people’s lives is the fact their lives left a small impression on the world. Ancient people lived for thousands of generations and left the landscape nearly unchanged in that time. It is not to say people didn’t impact their environments and didn’t utilize the world to their advantage. The reality is they had an impact on their environment, animal populations, and possibly even accelerated the extinction of different species. It is a modern misunderstanding to view these people as static and content to watch the world roll by, hoping for enough blessings to make it though the next day.

In fact these people were actively living in the world, both realizing a higher power was in control, but applying their own energies toward their survival searching for the gifts. They used stones, animals, plants, and anything else the land and God provided. Compared to our modern lives though, the impact of these people is hard to discern. Though their existence makes up the lion share of history finding evidence of this fact is difficult at best. In contrast, we are arguably living in a time where our “tracks” are the most discernible.

Soft Tracks outdoors is not a blog dedicated to a return to the Stone Age. In fact my interests lie beyond skills of the stone age to included 19th century mountain man skills, 18th century longhunter skills, modern outdoor pursuits, bushcraft in general, and other skills where at the core is reliance upon the natural bounty. I believe practicing these skills creates an understanding of the treasure naturally available and changes the perspective of people who practice them. It’s not about everyone regressing, as much as it is about keeping our ancient knowledge alive in the world. At some point it may once again be called upon.

Primitive skills for some also reenforce the realization that God will care for you and will provide you with all you need. I don’t believe primitive skills are the only route to this destination however. I know it helps me and could possibly help others as well. Some experience God on a Sunday worship, and others may realize his glory on a Friday night deer hunt.

Please follow us as we rediscover ancient skills, celebrate the bounty of the hunt, experience typical human experiences in history, deepen our faith, and learn to live a life of soft tracks.