By Chris Dawson

I recently had the opportunity to spend some time with the Mules. The Mules made me think of a metaphor with livestock (cows) ruminating. The John and I were sitting there ruminating on life. The word “neon” originally was a Greek word that meant something new. Made me think that the Mules see something new every day. Mule influenced me to write this poem this morning. The story of the brightness inside of him, his journey, like Odysseus heading to Ithaca, his stoney hand, and patina with nomad life. I wrote this poem called Neons. I stole a theme from Shakespeare, thus the first stanza. It’s a theme of what time takes away from us.


On the thieves of words, I borrow such.

That my neons live like rhapsodies of life.

In mind, though I have never seen Ithaca,
I love it’s great lands of creativity.

Greater than anyone can imagine.

The whole importance of being and
being whole.

I could make do with just with my mind,
my stoney hands, my eyes that carry
memories like a patina toolset.

But, I realize there is something more…
The essence of roaming free, that
moment of ruminating with you.

Thoughts, we can not nay, so steering
willfully, an interchange of mine.

That all things change into something
else, such whole breath and melody, that
hungry time’s idle tide will but have to
take away.

All away, except for the love, may she still
shine bright.

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