Tag: roots

  • Winter Grass and Wind

    Winter Grass and Wind

    The winter grass and wind sings her song. Ravens join the chorus. Returning to roots and origin. Lulled to sleep by the natural world.

  • Poem – 92nd and Madison

    I look down from the roof over Madison Ave and watch people enter and emerge from yellow streetlights, bobbing heads and umbrellas, taxis speed near and far, the rain softens the constant chatter and the voice questioning and answering everything at once. Through 10 to 20 story buildings I see the reservoir a few blocks…

  • Poem – Empty Fields

    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…

  • Poem – A Childhood in Retrospect

    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…

  • 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…

  • Poem – Revolution Rooted in Ancient Lands

    40 Days become 40 years and the revolution/transformation I began culminates from the mountain peak. Into the valley life flows as the new sun rises over the range. Caribou continue their thousand mile trek across vast swaths of land following their ancestors hoofs. I teeter on this ridge and see beyond the glacier fed waters…

  • Poem – Roots

    I walk the worn dirt path circling the overgrown fields where the winds have abated and the grass, flowers, and trees have grown deep roots while the land has gone back in time before the cities of industry.

  • All About Puppies

    The newest member of the family will be home soon.  Here she is, Vinny, at 4 weeks old.

  • Poem – Machines That Move Earth

    (1) Putting aside hollywood notions of machine versus man – September morning is hidden in fog, coated with an early frost. Subdued sun scattered across fields, meadows, and prairies. The sky becomes the land becomes the horizon. We head north, leaving behind city lights and traffic for pine trees and winter in the air. (2)…

  • Poem – House on 7th Street

    A two-story white house one window blue-framed large oak tree in the manicured yard, planter with purple flowers sways in the gentle breeze. Every hour or so the front door opens and a man holding a coffee cup emerges – cigarette lit, he watches traffic on 7th street. From this distance across 7th street, sipping…

  • Poem – Home

    To mom and pops Light edges across the roof giving rise to my shadow. With eyes closed I know it is there, I know I am home. I left 20 years ago trying to find my way to make my own life and path. Travelling to other countries finding my heart in Alaska but I…

  • Why do We Fight?

    Clouds part and the setting sun burns the last rays into my eyes before disappearing behind the trees.  Such balance as each of these systems, including my just sitting here, has a role. Finally the path I am on makes sense.  Pieces from everywhere scattered to the wind are falling into place, and for the…

  • Essay – Influence

    An entire lifetime spanning so many years, is divided into smaller lifetimes, or books. These books of our life are further divided into chapters. I think the books are finished and started with major events or changes and these can be happy, joyous, sad, perhaps a death or tragedy. The chapters within each are related…

  • Alaska 2013 – Thoughts and Random Photos

    Day 1 in Anchorage, AK. It has been 6-years since I have been here, in Anchorage. Has anything changed? Here, me? Previously I had specific goals and decisions to make during my time. Reflecting back on that time, the space I was within was turbulent, fuzzy, chaotic, twisting and turning in some kind of vortex.…

  • Finding Home

    Is home truly where the heart is, or where the heart feels at home? The sun rises behind grey clouds infused with faint orange, drifting in the morning sky just above the distant treeline. Across the vast expanse of water, mountains rise to meet the sky, and the sky greets the mountains with tears. A…