Current Life

No time to prepare,
I just passed remorse,
futures coming fast,
already seas from the source.

Contemplating on straightaways,
meandering curious through a glen,
admiring several spruce,
missing stands of aspen.

One of my closest friends,
the moon shows up grey,
blue talks on thoughts turn wet,
then the sky turns out to play.

A great mate who likes to debate,
always singing a different tune,
like whether the clouds,
would like to meet the moon.

Thick rains visit and times poor,
extra deposits to the banks,
I roll rocks out of their beds,
shaping the oldest of their ranks.

Lining up for their journey,
spawning salmon have no doubt,
not given second chances,
filling all lifes cracks of drought.

Daughters and sons runoff,
family being the seasons,
visiting when it suits them,
as if they needed a reason.

Stuck with fewer family winter,
summers cold and bitter clan,
saying its too cold to travel,
my mother natures slowing plan.

Beaten paths leaving scars,
salinity, sediment, and silt,
losing purity from the source,
meeting the mouth with earned guilt.

However quick I sea my life,
painting paths with the breeze,
family friends will remember me,
touching rocks and missing trees.