To a Friend in a Funk

Sometimes I know,
what is being said,
even when it’s not being said
and other times, I do not.

To assume is a gamble and
I am not a gambler.
I may have been at one time,
but now I only go with the true,
and that is you.

We weave complicated webs
around each other.
They sparkle when the sun falls into the ocean
through smoke clouds whispering,
“this is the end.”

But it is when the heavy mist,
and dark moon wake us with
coldness, shock and dread. . .
that we pause on ellipses,
and stumble over messages.

In the end there is only one thing to say.
I’m so grateful you came my way.
The hoot owls are mating tonight.
It don’t seem right.
Golly they’re noisy.

The dark moon rises,
I leave my plate at your feet.
Hope in the morning
there will be a morning.
And sunlight not too bright.

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6 thoughts on “To a Friend in a Funk

  1. “Friend in a funk” is that sort of like girlfriend in a coma or that guy who just checked in to see what condition his condition was in? No I think it is more like we’re on the eve of destruction. Yes, that is what I get from reading this poem and like all good poetry it is the reader who must find the way. Thanks for our mutual Christmas moments…me, you, Aaron, and Kari. Don Duque

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    1. Christmas Eve of Destruction? Sounds like a song. My love of nature which doesn’t love me ended me up in the emergency ward. Severe reaction to poison oak – one eye swollen shut. I’m a cutie! I’d be in a funk but I’m too drunk (why, drugged).

      Liked by 1 person

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