Why Brokeback Mountain is more than a mole hill

This cowboy doesn’t bunk down
by the campfire with his horse.
On his ride up Brokeback Mountain,
he has blazed another course.

His lassos aren’t for ladies.
With his hemp he ropes in men.
“Howdy pardner,” is his greeting
as he goes from chaps to skin.

His trail is snagged by brambles
as those tumbleweeds abound.
They are moral roots uprooted
windblown freely on the ground.

The gay rights left agenda
is behind this film it seems
with a plot of same-sex romance
tween two wranglers wearing jeans.

Bring back westerns we grew up on
where the cowpoke gets the girl
on the streets of Dodge not Sodom.
Where John Wayne loves Eve not Earl.

Why Seattle-ites are so uptight about what’s falling down

The Emerald City’s REALLY green.
I think you know just what I mean.
There’s water (WATER) everywhere
and no relief in sight.

I overheard Al Roker claim
Seattle can expect more rain.
But that was four long weeks ago
and still it hasn’t stopped.

This constant rain is getting old.
My wrinkled feet are growing mold.
I think I’m growing gills as well
along with fish-like scales.

We soon will need old Noah’s boat
to try and keep us all afloat
atop mud puddles large as lakes
that flood new land each day.

It’s for the birds (especially ducks).
This liquid sunshine really sucks.
But like so much we hate in life,
it gives us cause to grow.

So here’s to patience while it pours
and to those things we do indoors.
Like playing Scrabble with my wife
and reading to my kids.

P.S.
Dear Lord, please end this rainy streak
before Qwest Field begins to leak
and Seahawks players and their fans
watch victory drift downstream.

Sipping the future and swallowing the past

A glass ball falls
while our hopes rise
that past regrets
and wordless sighs
will be relinquished
and forgot
and never brought
to mind

A midnight gong
and glasses clink
as couples kiss
while others drink
a toast to
opportunities
this brand new year
will bring.

So here’s to peace
within Iraq
so all our troops
will soon be back.
And to old friends
in New Orleans
rebuilding what
they lost.

To people on
the streets alone
who have no place
to call their own.
To single moms
and jobless dads
and those whose
mates have died.

To neighbors, friends
and family
who fill our lives
abundantly
and to the Lord
whose gift to us
is this
awaiting year.