Deep Ecology

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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Video – Sunrise on New Years Day

Video taken of Lake Superior waves on the first morning of 2017.

Poem – Transformation

I watch the sun rise from
distant cold moving water.

White-capped waves emerge from the horizon
and over time they will arrive at my feet

standing on the rock strewn shoreline
covered in clear ice.

I imagine staying here through the passing months
when the deep winter takes hold of this

land and my body becomes one with the
water and the earth and from this

connection I am transformed back to
my birth state when I emerged from the horizon.

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Nature – Water, A Winter Perspective

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Standing upon the rocky ledge overlooking the crashing waves of the superior waters, I am taken away from here, while my physical body stays. The soundscape is filled with water, seagulls and tributary rivers. The landscape is gray and cold with whitecaps pushed inward. I kneel with hands clasped behind my back and focus my eyes away from that which surrounds and into the clear water washing onto the rocks, depositing a few, and taking some away.

Why are some rocks chosen and some left behind to forever weave back and forth within the crevasse they were left within?

And where will the chosen rocks be taken? How far out to sea will they journey before being deposited again? Will some be passed back and forth taken from shore to shore as they travel around the world?

The wind carries from the across the sea and penetrates my body through the skin, muscle, and bone settling into my veins. Each beat of the music I can see with my eyes closed is one closer to filling me. And I am taken into another world of light and music.

My put mind is put to sleep within the music carried by the waves. I no longer feel the cold splash when the wave hits the rock. I no longer feel cold. I no longer worry. I no longer feel tense. I no longer feel without purpose or place.

I belong here with the water. I belong within her arms, holding me close.

Time passes and I forget everything else and only have the water and rock in my mind.

Where do we find purpose and our place besides nature? Does nature know that we seek it to find comfort and to unravel the twisted and confused human mind?

Often, I wander along the shoreline with delicate steps on the wet rock with singular purpose of not slipping. I think to myself, do the rocks mind I am stepping upon them and using them to reach a goal?

Far out at sea a ship strikes a balance with the waves setting a course to minimize the rocking and its presence. What does the water get in return for this relationship? Perhaps it is the prevention of another spill of crude oil or the rusting remains on the ocean floor. Then what causes the fury that does sink ships? Perhaps it is nature’s last breath, the final push over the edge that she can longer take.

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Nature – Land, a Fall Perspective

Evening approaches the valley shielded under the canopy of oak. The colors change from green began a week ago and today the carpet has become red. A southerly wind rattles the dense forest, shaking loose leaves and small branches. Other than nature it is quiet and calm. I come here for the quiet and calm. Peace abounds as the shadows like a blanket settle over the landscape.

I ride past open fields of golden tops swaying in the wind. The setting sun cast long is bright to the naked eye, but warm, beautiful, and peaceful.

I ride the single-track dirt trail through an immense soundscape of birds calling, squirrels foraging for nuts, and the blue jays singing.

I witness the last preparation of bees. One by one they take flight with cargo, like helicopters slowly leaving the earth, and into the setting sun. Evening dew settles upon the elongated grass, capturing the last rays of light.

The butterfly visited me today. Within the back trails under the coming darkness, the color of wings pushing the air creating a vibration captured my attention as it crossed directly in front of me.

The setting suns light scatters with the thin white clouds occupying the evening sky.

I continue to ride and the trail ascends before flattening out, bringing me between field and placid waters clinging to the last light.

The transition of summer to fall contains a new color palette as greens give way to red, yellow and orange. Flaming red maple leaves fall from the sky as I look up, standing in the middle of the trail.

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