Uncle Tree had quite a wide variety of visitors last year!
He also got out and around to hug a few special friends.
Then word got out — that old crane told me so!
Fishing in Nebraska is a thrill, but, still, good fish are rare.
Sunburns are much more common.
The uncommon is me —
reeling in 60 years, butterflies, birds,
and the best of beers!
Happy Birthday, Uncle Tree!
Keith Alan Watson
In the heat of the moment
in the heart of summer
Surrender to your hunger
and submerge the urge to vent
“Put some water in the melon, Watson!”
Moss Rose Sunset
Sky’s High Five
LU & UT
Long before Time you were
the eternal light forever seen
through the passion-powered lens
of my intently aligned
The time we spend together
binds the joys and thrills we treasure
to a love no rule can measure
and a hope no will can tether!
♪ ♫ ♪
Stealing a glance under my branch,
I spied a green-eyed lady,
as if, by Chance, or Fate’s romance,
she found me cool and shady.
I heard her sigh for times gone by,
her breath grew slow and steady.
I knew not why, but in her cry,
old tears stood at the ready.
Releasing all, the rain did fall
on ruddy roots and timber.
Like thunder calls that break down walls;
like leaves turn in September.
When it snows and my limbs begin to bend
under the weight, I relax
letting loose all worries and cares
When the North wind blows
I just curl in my roots
like toes in new Christmas shoes
By the good Book we learn, but by way of experience
we know, and knowing is so much better than believing,
for the sacred root of trust grows from confidence in the Lord,
and the deeper we trust, the more our faith strengthens.
Blind faith means: giving up the right to choose.
We were born to question, but only solutions build trust.
Once upon a Time, God spoke to men and women directly.
These human beings wrote down what God said to them.
After a few centuries, a select group of men gathered
a great many of these writings together, and decided
they had enough to make a Book of Books. After judging
some of the stories unfit, they put the remaining
books in an order befitting The Story, and called
the chosen writings scripture. Then they said,
“No words shall be added or taken away from The Bible.”
I surmise, from that day forward,
God ceased to speak to Man.
Or nowadays, if He does get vocal,
and someone jots down His words,
no one else will believe them,
and scripture it shall never be.
In a state of restless consternation,
the candidates awaited the arrival of The Master.
A hush fell over the room as the curtains began to part.
With a marked air of dignity, Olmark glided to center-stage.
His presence brought their newly sharpened awareness into focus.
“Attuned — understand?
Listen up, all ye initiates of The Order.
The note; the original, plays on in the unseen background.
Can you hear it? Don’t you sense it? Like a stream of morning dew?
Damn that bastard of Time!
He with bloodless heart ablaze
beating fumes through invisible veins
flailing every fixed point out of existence
seething in the nefarious nodes of Nosferatu
Applying the wisdom of color to the dynamic chalkboard of decisive action is certainly a messy business. One orbits the softness of the shining subject matter ~ without the devilish judgments incurred when absurdly applying the tainted palette of logic to an inconceivable canvas floating far beyond the point of no return.
© Uncle Tree
Keith Alan Watson