He sat there on the porch,
Like clock work he would sit,
The swinging chair connected above
Not the seat that he loved,
All though it was good for a sleep.
The stained rocking chair,
Coloured so many times
Each coating breaking though the last,
His pride of place,
"Good morning mam"
"Evening sir"
It didn't matter who you were
A courtesy
"Hello"
From his porch,
He would rock for hours of the day.
When twilight came,
He would look at the sunset,
Smile,
Then when twilight burnt its last
And the heavens showed off
Rocking, gazing unto the stars
And wished it good night
Old Man Jenkins,
He Seemed to always be there,
But then news came
He had wished his last
Morning,
Evening,
Good night,
He was our friend,
Now and forever, missed by everyone.
But there are days when we pass
His old rocking chair still there
It rocks back and forth
Sun,
Wind,
& rain,
His chair rocking as if to say hello,
We look to it depending the time of day
And answer
"Good evening Mr Jenkins"
And when night falls,
The stars seem to shine that little more bright,
Sitting in heaven on his comfy chair,
He takes in the view rocking for eternity up there.

Swirling motions,
of sparking cosmic dust
Within this place is home,
to each and every one of us.

Massive bodies of-
aggressively burning gas.
We circle these objects,
within our swirling mass.

Celestial bodies,
grow and erode.
The stars themselves,
expand and implode.

We try and understand this place,
using geometry and math.
Yet, we’ll never know for sure,
what lies directly in our path.

Is there meaning to our lives,
as they appear to be?
Or are we grains of sand,
spinning into eternity?

Governments may deny this,
but, I know there’s higher intelligence.
Unfortunately their desire to remain hidden,
only shines light on their malevolence.

As we live our lives,
driving simple cars.
We are frequently monitored,
by Tall Whites and children of the stars.

I feel this is something that,
must be understood.
We must be extremely wary,
and not assume galactic brotherhood.

There’s an abundance of life,
out in the celestial sea.
And where there is life, predators,
will come to harvest thee.

But for all I know,
they could be humble and kind.
And all this fear is just a result,
of an over cynical mind.

And so we spin, drift and wait,
not knowing for certain our fate.
There are orbits in which,
our planets are compliant.

We all revolve around,
a great burning giant.
Here we turn in relative tranquility.
mostly unaware of our increasing vulnerability.

snow on the wind
means
wood on the fire
means
hot chocolate in the cup
means
extra padding on the hips
means
gym class during the week
means
hard ****** work
means
just cannot wait for spring.