At Twilight I Become a Dog

author’s note:

To all the twilight lovers out there.


AT TWILIGHT I BECOME A DOG

This evening walking home from the woods
a wandering dog spoke me with its eyes
saying:
Like so many humans, you seem to love twilight.
Why?

After a moment of reflection
I arrived at this explanation:

“As the sunlight evaporates
 and darkness filters in

“as trees shade into silhouettes
 and the distance grows obscure

“the familiar becomes unfamiliar
 and suddenly
 I’m not so sure of my steps.

“So to compensate
 I open my eyes and ears
 and in that state
 of heightened sensitivity
 I again sense
 the strangeness of this place I inhabit

“and again realize
 our mundane world
 is always infused
 with a world unseen.
 Or rather:
 the two are always one.

“Ironic, yes—
 in my unease
 I experience wonder again.”

At the end of this spiel
the dog wagged its tail
and said with a grin:

You have good instincts, my friend.
Maybe someday
you’ll be brave enough
to hear and see and feel
as dogs do all day long.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

The Little Farmer Feels Grand

author’s note:

I have met the space alien and he is me.


THE LITTLE FARMER FEELS GRAND

I claimed this land

then built a house and fence
that could withstand
the ferocity of the seasons

and under a sky, deep and wide
sowed a crop.

So I felt quite satisfied with myself
when I sat down to rest
but then

I began to sense a presence
pervading this broad valley.

Later that night I woke in the dark
to hear this message whispered:

you own nothing here—

you are a visitor, a stranger

allowed to take for a moment

then whisked away like a speck.

Though my ego felt wounded
I realized the truth of those words.
I was not mighty; I was a mite
supping on an indomitable creature.

I’d seen this farm as a monument
to my courage and endurance.
But after my passing
the elements would soon
erase all I’d done.

But I also knew:
if I stopped work—
if I abandoned this dot of earth
I would feel
even smaller than I felt now.

So I decided on this strategy:
during the long day
I would focus on the task at hand
and not let my eyes wander
toward those distant mountains—

not gaze across the sweep of this valley
to the horizon

and if I began to sense
that all-knowing presence
I’d shut down my awareness.

As a result of this tactic
my daily labor still seems meaningful.

But at twilight
when I’m done with chores
I sit down once more
and allow my perspective to stretch—
allow myself to again
feel the living presence.

Allow myself to remember
I’m nothing but wee alien visitor here.

An odd thought—a little disturbing
but at such moments
I regain my sense of wonder.

I never felt so grand
until I became
just a bit of airborne dust
living for a breath in a kingdom
of heaven and earth.

mythsteps · The Little Farmer Feels Grand

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Talking to the Wee Folk In Case They Actually Exist

author’s note:

I think you can find mystery anywhere, everywhere.

But some places are just more conducive to the experience.


TALKING TO THE WEE FOLK IN CASE THEY ACTUALLY EXIST

When the hunter sprayed his friend
with buckshot
perhaps he was a little bit drunk
or perhaps you tricked him
because in his callous ignorance
he’d tromped over your clover
with his big clumsy boots.

Or because
you heard him laugh at
a folk legend loved in times past
when people still indulged
their sense of wonder.

Maybe some will say
I don’t like plain facts
but when my goosebumps rise
the plain fact is:
the one within this skin
senses mystery lurking.

But though I like to imagine
that mystery could be you
I know the mystery is probably
something I can’t possibly imagine.

No, forget what I just said!
Of course I believe you’re really here--

why else would I ask you
to forgive this fool
if he slips or trips?
Please, I pray--
I’m not obtuse, just transfixed
by the dark garden
of your forest labyrinth.

mythsteps · Talking to the Wee Folk in Case They Actually Exist

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Stepping with the Baby

author’s note:

Wishing you the best on all your big steps in 2023.


STEPPING WITH THE BABY

The bold blind wandering fool
I once was
has become a seasoned explorer who can see
potential risk
and knows
men and women of courage
do not always win.

Even those who’ve checked
every box on the list.

But this man also realizes
if he doesn’t answer the call
he will die.

And so
I lift my foot
to take the next step.

But even after all these years
a baby still clings to my back.
Being so immature
that tot couldn’t care less
about higher necessities--
it only worries about its own well-being--
neither reason nor cooing will stop
that child from kicking and crying.

So I do not try to negotiate
but continue to stretch my stride.

And when the raised foot lands
back on solid ground--
that child calms down

but only for a while:
   as soon as one scary step
   has settled firmly
   another scary step
   demands to be heard.

What a labor, the way we humans live.

But at times
I can put aside the careful adult
and that anxious infant
to allow another child—
a child of wonder--
to open my eyes
to the incredible life to be found
on every step of this path.

Common Courage: poetry book
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

My Better World

author's note:

“We experience a dream as real because it is real.”
              -- Dr. William C. Dement


MY BETTER WORLD

The excited uncertainty
of crossing a stone bridge in dark fog

ended
before I'd reached the end--ended
with the alarm of morning

and as I began my usual routine
the intensity faded
and I forgot the dream

until that afternoon:

while waiting to cross a city street
I suddenly recalled the night bridge
hidden and revealed and hidden
by the tease of shifting clouds

and as the feeling returned
my day world of blatant sunlight
became as real as that dream:

the traffic light warning me...
the bleached grey fence...
a vacant lot overgrown with weeds--
all seemed strangely alive

and I felt myself to be
an alien spirit
discovering a wonderland

then the light changed
and as my attention shifted
that sense of intensity faded:

once again I was
a lowly armadillo
grubbing along the asphalt.

However
that feeling of living
in a grander world
is not lost, only asleep

and sometimes
stirs from slumber
to end my daydream.

I then remember
I am more than a mere
creature of survival.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook