Parables

The wind

the rain

the sun

Are my teachers.

I walk among the ageless cedar

Observing the way of the beaver.

The galaxies and stars

Are my fathers’ map

guided by along

The less traveled, seldom trodden

Path.

I discern an ancient tale of woes spoken in the cryptic caws of crows

Who witness a world of

Ever change

Never less

the same

The grasping

Nevermore

to gain

Rising, collapsing.

The dawn of days

first born Hills rejoicing

Mountains leaping toward the sky

Came the vain pursuit of man

To find his means to satisfy

His bulging and corrupted-

Covetous eye.

I’ve seen the tower, babel

Thrust toward heaven high

Collapse

Returning to a mound of futile efforts dashed

laden beneath Millennias

of strata

and ash.