
This is the path that leads to the place
where the flowers know your name,
walk slowly and listen to their stories of you.

Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.

This is the path that leads to the place
where the flowers know your name,
walk slowly and listen to their stories of you.

Scatter your wishes
farther than your feet will ever travel.
Dream dreams bigger than the universe.

On an ordinary day a walk reveals
the enchanted place
where the golden birch resides
totem for fairies and unicorns.

Fern is the dinosaur
who still roams the earth
waving its dragon tail.

A single leaf
contains all the mysteries
of the world.

Two planks
for two feet
to take two steps
and cross into
the welcoming woods.

Adorned with angel wings
the color of the sky and ringed with time
the stump slowly returns to its beginning
by nurturing its mother – earth.

Dandelion
most darling and daring of weeds
the yellow sun that wishes grow upon.

In his stillness
the squirrel seeks
to become one with the tree.

As dusk descends a storm approaches,
celestial light graces the trees
and shelters the shadow of the house.

In the garden everything finds its rightful home
a stone is sheltered by a mass of blooms
and so it should be.

In a few weeks time this road will lead
to lazy days shimmering with heat and nights with fireflies.

The crown of the tree
wears a veil of green.

Spring sneaks in on little fox feet
greening the mountain while the world sleeps.

Down in the field the garden bed sleeps
dreaming of rain, flowers and food
and knowledgeable hands that coax and groom.

Native vernal bloomers
sprinkled like fairy dust
across the forest floor.

Beloved early guest of spring, goddess of the awakened earth.
Twin blossoms of love and protection mark the entrance to fairyland;
inviting you to venture past the invisible gate and into the world of delight.

Even weeds have their part to play
in the great display of spring.

In April the earth vibrates
with a growing, glowing green
that celebrates each second of aliveness.

Perfection appears
in a tangle of winter’s residue.

how lavender whispers.
That purple is soft
and yellow tastes like the sun.

In the magic hours the forest glows
as trees catch the sun and release their dreams.

My feet feel an earth drained of her color.
My mind’s eye imagines greens below blue skies.