“Which way home?”

She asked in child’s voice.

“This way, into the sun.”

I replied, pointing up the slope at the muted

late winter sun at the path’s end.

“We all come from the sun.”

That cabin in the woods,
nestled beneath second generation pine
planted after the last logging,
waits for our visit.

Snow caught in tree-tops
meanders through the winter sky
covering the green roof in a smooth
slope where acorns speed to the ground.

Ravens ever present toward the open fields,
near the old silo base, they rule the open sky
with acrobatics and voices blanketing
the otherwise quiet space.

The nest in the overhang now empty.
Somewhere deep in the woods they watch
with caution and curiosity as the dogs
run circles around that cabin in the woods.

When this life’s pace and chaos
become too much I know where I can turn.

I return to my roots,
I return to the empty fields.

Here is a clean slate waiting
for the mind to create.

They offer possibilities,
an endless space to chase and capture dreams.

This is where the mind can exist
without limitations or boundaries.

This is home.

The pine tree lined path
covered with early season snow
beckons for me to follow
and with eyes closed.

Shifting through photos
I feel no connection, no recognition
to the person with time and years
ahead of them, looking to the future.

Pausing at one in particular in the midst of summer,
oak leaves burning with white light,
the sun slowly fading into the horizon
behind the hill at the street’s end.

What was etched into the mind
when the image became a permanent
moment tossed into a shoe box?
What was the last thought defining that moment?

Years will pass and that young face
will undergo an outward expression
of the strife, agony, depression, and final transformation
built upon the experiences, cast from the struggle.

In time what we are in this life
circles back to the foundation,
the hands pushing up from the earth,
the roots feeding a child’s growth and imagination.

The dirt road lined with pine and poplar
exists in familiar land and on the map,
but standing here beneath the northern sky
as the cool wind brushes the lake,
I am without time or space.

In moments where I become aware
of my contact with the earth,
does it matter where I exist
physically when everything else
I am is scattered to the sea,
the sun, and the stars?

From that white pinpoint in the evening sky –

I wonder what they are thinking,
and I wonder are they watching?

Our future plans take humanity further from earth
searching for aliens and distant planets,

a search for another home, perhaps,
or are we looking for ourselves?

In the endless pursuit beyond here,
are they watching us and waiting?

photo-dec-31-10-17-09-am

** From the series “The Integration”

In the depth of winter
with the shoreline covered
in snow blown in from the
distant water, this is home.

A place nestled on a cliff
covered in ice as the superior
waves relentlessly carve away
at ancient features, this is home.

img_3219

img_3223

The solitude and calm of a northern MN forest is an inviting and welcome break from the city. Pine trees gently sway in the autumn wind and the sun casts tall shadows beneath the crystal blue. This place is a refuge for animals and people and a delicate balance plays out each day.

We are but guests here and with time we are consumed by the trees and the earth to become one and the same.

We are but caretakers here tasked with preserving what is natural, what is instinctual, and lessen our impact.

We are blessed to be here and the reward is absolute silence, snow covered pine needles, whippoorwills, evening visits from coyotes, elusive bears, soaring ravens, and the ritual of becoming ash and returning to the sky, returning to home.

2015-11-22-09-51-29

2015-11-22-10-05-05

2015-11-22-14-08-59

2015-11-22-15-42-48

In the quiet moments
as our sun falls behind

the mountains, the sky
becomes filled with the

distant suns of alien planets
and we begin to understand our place.

2012-07-06-14-33-46