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Poem – Fragile Thread

The sunless grey sky
releases an afternoon rain

pushing leaves beginning to transition
to bright yellows and deep reds.

Each drop’s ripple in the pond,
each leaf that falls through wind and rain

a reminder of nature’s course in time
and the fragile thread we all cling to.

Poem – Merging Scenes

Evening clouds cross the open fields,
consuming empty space and trees.

We watch their fluid movements
and changing colors as the sun sets.

Each passing moment like snowflakes
and we struggle to take all of this in.

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Poem – Calming

What more can I ask for,
what more can I expect,

than the colors of autumn
calming the chaos within.

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Photos from Lutsen – 04/16/16

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Poem – Where From

Putting aside differences,
opinions, and our views of
the outside from the inside,
whoever or whatever designed and created
this, is pretty awesome.

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Poem – A Moment in Time

For a moment in time
I saw the future
as I quickly let go
o the past.

In the moment I
saw the beginning.

Of each moment I
held on as long as possible.

I did not know how much
time I had left.

I do not know where
I am going from here.

Fading light

Fading light

Fire is coming

Fire is coming

 

Poem – Into the Sun

I awoke that missing day
disconnected and lost
from what I thought I was
and who I wanted to be
so I searched around the room
and climbed out the window
and walked down the only road
into the sun.

Where the road ended and the forest began
the trees moved to the silent wind
scattering evening light across
my face.
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Poem – Perseverance

Storms rolled through last week.

Weak and old trees toppled to the ground or fell into a neighbor or
landed on the wire fencing with the orange flags.

Near the pole barn smaller trees were uprooted but the metal roof
still looks new, the green roof glistening when wet.

What little birch are mixed with the pine
still stand, their white and grey skin

shining through the green mass.
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Poem – The Day Wisdom Came from the Clouds Above

(1)

Summer months fell into the autumn.
Mist clung to pine before the sun rose.

Brown needles falling from the sky
slide down the barn’s green metal roof.

We walk past fallen trees, piles of brush,
two tree stumps to be removed, knee-high

patches of weeds and wild flowers, a
bat house, three thistle-filled socks,

a burnt circle in the dirt from last
years burning, and finally the green gate.

(2)

The open field stretches to the horizon
and beyond with our imagination as to

the wonders nature has planned as
the sun emerges above the treeline.

From the east, we hear them.
Closer, louder, they circle at

great heights, specs in the sky,
appearing to descend the closer

they come to the field, as we
move behind grasses.

One last circle and their
grand black bodies against

the autumn blue, pass over
our heads, a slow motion dream

with an empty mind, one wing flap
echoes through the open field

and soon the whoosh disappears
along with the raven, natures’ wonder.