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Poem – The Fragments We Keep

Eyes open to the blackened sky.

I find myself on scattered rocks.

Cold waves wash over me as I struggle to remember.

Ravens call across the bay.

In the distance a portal opens and for the first time in years I feel hope.

Ravens now carry the fragments I desire to keep.

Poem – Are They Watching?

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?

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** From the series “The Integration”

Poem – Light from Another Home, What Controls Each Dream

Winter evening sky burns at the horizon
as day falls into night.

Eyes follow the black outlines
of branches reaching toward heaven

through the layered hues and scattered clouds
until they stop at the single white point.

I have seen you each night
from the cement patio as

the city quiets and the distant
trains come to a stop.

I have seen you each night
when sleep finally takes hold.

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** From the series “The Integration”

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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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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Poem – Night Becomes the Day

The empty fields
will breath darkness
until giving way
to the increasing light.

What today is hidden in shadows
will slowly be revealed.

What will you see when
the night becomes the day?

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Poem – To the Darkness

To the darkness that is ever present
that is the shadow following each footstep
that is the fast moving clouds –
I will meet you in the empty fields
filled with ten-thousand lanterns
and put to rest the game we have been playing for years.

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Poem – Birth

In the beginning we come into this space
as innocent beings fumbling around
the empty fields stretching forever.

We stare in wonder and with amazement
as to the endless possibilities
and the control we have of our life.

Then something changes and the field
begins to fill with objects and obstacles
and where there was no path, forks in the road.

How we navigate this field and
how far reaching our sphere of influence
determines the lanterns brightness when we return.

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Copyright (c) 2014-2016 Twisted Root Photography

Poem – At Every Turn

At every turn. Life.
The decisions we have made
the decisions made without us.
The people we have forgotten.

Yet, here we are beneath another sun
on another day with another chance.
To move beyond our mistakes with
the knowledge and experience we have gained.

None of the challenges are greater
than what we see everywhere and what
we carry with us each day – ourself
looking back at us.

And in the evening light
I see the answer to
every question I have been asking
and to every doubt I live with.

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Poem – Sense of All

And in the evening light
we chase the floating particles,
each a piece of ourselves
set free from the fire.

In this moment we lose sense of “I”
and become the “we” with the
trees, the light, the darkness
and the whole of the universe.

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