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Poem – Snow Always Proceeds the Fall
The depth of days, carrying the memories from the past through the present into a future laid bare in our hands. Silence precedes the chaos we create, but until that moment the silence is unsettling, daunting, and disarming. Snow comes first with a message of peace and hope a subtle warning from the winds originating…
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If Jackson Pollock was a photographer, #3
I imagine one of his photos would look like this:
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Winter is Coming
Early morning sunrise, a preview of winter.
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Road Home
The road home, over the hill, into the sky.
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Poem – Layers
Why do I spend each weekend breaking sweet and back? What does each peeled layer represent? What am I looking for? Across the water lapping at my feet the land rises to the sky and the cliffs. I dream in color, I dream in green I smell warm pine and feel my skin burn as…
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Poem – When the Tree Speaks My Name
Weeks have passed since my last visit. Jack pine needles blanket the pole barn’s roof a painting of solid green and brown slivers. The front porch is covered with maple and oak leaves, spider webs and left-over wood that was cut for fires. What used to be a driveway is now in the beginning stages…
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Poem – Welcome
Tears fall upon the lotus growing near the red water. A robed figure walks the dirt path from the bay carrying a full bucket not one drop is spilled as they descend a hill leading to the monastery. ~ Trees give up their leaves to the earth, the earth gives the leaves to animals, what…
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Poem – What We Must Do
In the first light of day we head from the city into the greening forest filled with bird voices. We reached the bottom of the first hill when we stopped in our tracks – remains of a deer. For the 3rd time in the last three years, we have found the reamins of deer while…
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Poem – Stars
As evening settles in I wait for Leroy as she watches the tree line. I feel we are not alone beneath the clear sky, free of the sun. The black water flips the sky and transposes the sublime night-time patterns. I become transfixed on one particular yellowish dot and after looking away I no longer…
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Fields of Snow
A foot of new powder, deep blue skies, and a quiet afternoon of snowshoeing. Nature’s fury becomes the landscape we seek the solitude we savor.