Standing on the front porch
I watch the sun rise over the
distant mountains and first light
run across the empty fields.
Morning wind pushes scattered stalks and coffee steam
while bird songs emerge from the tree line.
High bulbous clouds assume many colors
as the sun reaches higher.
Leroy lays at my side sleeping
as we watch night become the day.
Two videos from early Christmas Day with crystal blue skies, strong wind, and below 0 temperatures.
Shadows from high-clouds
in the early afternoon
pass over our faces
soaking in the autumn wind.
Do each of us have a monster inside
a beast we strive to hide from the
world, those close we love, and from our self?
At the end of each day
what are we truly running from?
What shadows lurk in the forest
and what shadows do we carry?
Across the fields with scattered snow
mountains rise from the earth
in spires of solid granite,
nearly featureless – how will
this barrier be overcome?
Standing at the base of the mountains
what hope I brought here
disperses on the cold wind
scouring the surface of the empty fields,
those fields I left behind years ago
when the beast chased me away.
I woke in the fields.
The fields I have never seen.
The fields black beneath the white sun.
Limbs emerge from snow.
Snow scatters into the wind.
Wind twists the clouds around me.
From the horizon a train nears.
The horizon shakes and fractures.
The fractured fragments cover my mind.
I was not yet ready to awaken.
The biting cold of wind
carrying water off the lake.
A sun rising behind the grey
storm clouds still in the distance.
Ice encased tree
on the rocky point.
Frozen mist carried along
Berries cling to barren branches
providing food to robin and chickadee.
A wanderer of the frozen lands,
I stopped at the edge.
A silence wrapped in wind
and ice scattered across
the valley and we took
shelter beneath overhanging rock.
In the morning after the fire
we hiked 7 days to the distant valley
steeped in legends of living spirits
and the black wolves guarding the way home.