Once you were liquid, formed by waves of time.
Now you are solid, holding your place in the granite state.
Height
In the morning, beneath your canopy the whole world glows a growing green.
If I started to climb your branches now, by midnight I could touch the stars.
Pond’s Edge
As a delicate morning melts into day
for a brief moment the tree tops are in reach.
Time
You no longer tell time by new rings.
Now as a beam, you measure time
by the nights and days of shelter you provide,
absorbing laughter and tears into your fibers and history.
Dirt Road
It has taken many cities to know
that my way home is off the paved path.
The sound of tires on soil is my welcome song.
Shadow
The pond shows me how
to see the thing that is least visible.
Picasso
A hint of a face made of knots.
Is it wonder or awe or angst that it shares?
Could it be a wooden reflection?
Mosaic
Nature is an artist who works tirelessly at her abstracts of perfection.
Hive
Tired of the raids by bears and man the bees have moved on.
Now they keep their honey hoard safe in the hollows of old trees.
Sunday Mountain
The Great Spirit resides here, peacefully presiding over us.
The wind still holds the echos of the Abenaki’s footsteps.
The soil cradles our carefully tended dreams.
Transition
A single leaf speaks
of the movement
of Summer to Fall.
Visitors
Like visitors from another planet they appear suddenly and without notice.
Their other worldly beauty is hypnotic. You need not taste them to receive the magic.
Bench
Rest here and be still like the water.
Watch the dragonflies dance.
Discover the nurture of a moment of silence.
Village
Beneath the bird feeder at the edge of the woods
is where the fairies set up their mushroom camp.
Pink
This is the color of laughter.
Floating
When smoke has choked the blue from your sky
and grey seems the color of eternity, hang on to hope
for it can keep you afloat and mend your tattered faith.
Run Off
No matter the obstacle,
water always finds its way home.
Illuminated White
Today came a cloud so white
it must have been reflecting
the heart of the moon.
First Red Tree
Along the great Long River
the first touch of Fall, a splash of red,
presents itself along the southern bank.
River View
Tie your daydreams to the dock
and watch the diamond dance of sunshine on water
as summer slides into fall.
Bridge
The span links neighbor to neighbor,
above the river, across state lines.
Community knows no jurisdiction.
Wind Chime
It is the breath of the divine
that makes the chime sound.
Cement Squirrel
It is the magic of care and whimsey
that moves you from spot to spot
to enjoy the views of the garden.
Window Box
When the old red barn is dressed up with a window box
not even the high noon sun can wilt away
her pretty-fication.
Hearts
Tender hearts bear their leafy souls
to the sun and the weather of the day
as the wind chime cheers them on
and a spider’s web holds them up.
Birdhouse
The babies have feathered and flown.
It is time to wing to the South.
Your house holds the echo of your song,
and awaits your return in the spring.
Nearness
Tim
seeks me
in the garden
small
white
butterfly
always
hovering
nearby
Ghost
that I glimpse
from the side of my eye
Darting through blossoms
resting on leaves
taking advantage of sunshine and breeze
Pointing out a shapely cloud
waiting on my mailbox
inquisitive antenna cocked
Reminding me
as mortality
rages on
death
is not
the final stop.
Tim Mann, dear friend and fellow traveler,
you are remembered.
Charlotte
Charlotte, my dear,
I’d prefer it if you
left your messages outside.
Family Farm
The fields empty at dusk.
The kitchen fills with the sound of hungry forks
and the quiet of resting work boots.
Rest
Until the crops have given their full yield
you may rest in the high weeds with the moon flower.
When it is time to till again you will carry the full weight of a man and his dreams.