Deep Ecology

Poem – Tomorrow

As my years here have grown,
and the world around shrinks,
the uncertainty of time increases,
and if I only learn one thing in this life,
it is this:

Cherish today, the people, animals, trees, right here in your grasp, as tomorrow they may slip away.  Tomorrow may arrive, or it may not.



Poem – Autumn Wind

Shadows from high-clouds
in the early afternoon

pass over our faces
soaking in the autumn wind.

Poem – Captured Halos

The black morning hides tall pine trees
rising against the star filled sky.

The silence broken only by the canines response
to the pack of coyotes and their screams.

A heavy mist hugs the wet ground
and stones glistened with the slightest light.

Through the drifting smoke
the scattered sun brings to life the forest

illuminated in halos captured in photos
that will help remember the peace and quiet.


Poem – The Ancients

Scattered across the window
Overlooking the rocky outline
Of the lake shore.

Cast from the memories of thousand years
Together we embrace as the fire
Fills the black sky with our own universe
And the reflection of the time we have endured
And the souls we have emerged as on the other side.

Standing side by side with flow stretching across endless stars and planets
we emerge each awakening flanked by the white and black wolf.

Together we will enter Valhalla and live among the giants
who have guided and taught us ways of the ancients.

Late evening summer sun

Poem – Silent Awakening

Summer. Days of long hot sun,
the wind scorching exposed skin
and throwing sand and twigs everywhere.

Summer. Early mornings when the sun
first reaches above the pine tree tops
and the light squirms its way through
openings in the pole barn roof, tapping
on closed eyes. Slowly the whippoorwill
across the seasonal creek is heard and
the acorns hitting roof every time
the wind arrives.

Summer. Afternoon storms that build
and tower above the flight paths
of airplanes, the silent clouds
with layers of colors, various shapes,
and ever-changing patterns.

Before the storms arrive as the sky darkens,
I am serenaded by the whispering pine
and the silent awakening of not being alone,
of having a connection with the earth
and to each tree providing shelter.

Poem – Heartbeat

In the depths of winter,

when I stand as one of the white birch

when the ravens come to rest atop

silent pines and the fields calm

I finally know I am alive when I hear my heartbeat.

Poem – Shifted Wolves

From the collection “Beyond the Border Kingdom“.

(1)

In dreams
the white wolf
stands beside
the black wolf

Emerging from
unnamed star fields
walking across
a bridge of light
against gravity
against laws of physics.

I felt no fear.
I felt no fear.

Distant galaxies
produce and consume
light.

Skewed and shifted
before arriving here
and matter we cannot see
fills the space.

This universe
spirals further
from the beginning
stretching into
unknown space
at speeds we
cannot fathom
beyond the traditional
rules we theorized
from the variables
we created.

The universe spirals further
from the beginning
around a black hole –

gathering light
gathering matter.

At the event horizon
pink cubes gather strength.

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Poem – Ready for the Truth

(1)

Return to the pine forest
thinly snow coated.

In this silence broken only
by raven calls we have

to be comfortable with ourselves
in the midst of nature.

I wander the hard trails lined
with dried needles and

attempt to let go of all
thoughts and concerns,

even the direction I am heading.

(2)

Stripped of daily responsibilities
am I comfortable enough with myself

to let go and allow the forest
to let me in?

Am I ready?

What if the forest
does not desire me here?

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Poem – Small Moments Lasting a Lifetime

The biting cold of wind
carrying water off the lake.

A sun rising behind the grey
storm clouds still in the distance.

Ice encased tree
on the rocky point.

Frozen mist carried along
the surface.

Berries cling to barren branches
providing food to robin and chickadee.

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Nature – Stones

Do the stones we find on the shoreline, inspected closely before placing in a pocket for safe keeping, care that millions of years of effort have vanished?

We may live in nature, within its surroundings the forests’ cradling hands, but we must remember the cradling hands found us as they were here first, before we arrived as simple celestial beings.

Early October and the first snowfall through 30 degree temperatures, the leaves are still green and the grass is layered with a white coat. Gray rolling clouds ooze more snow as the winds toss individual flakes from rooftops and place them elsewhere in growing drifts.

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