The land must be listened to
respected and revered.
Old friend show me the way to Eden.
What kind of cows have wheels and honk?
The young one wonders.
Dumb ones. The older ones know.
If you listen closely
at the edge of the pond, shortly after dawn,
you can hear the fish whisper their plans for the day.
God is here in this rock wall,
in the mind that planned it, in the hands that made it,
in the earth that holds it, in the rain that will wash it,
in the snow that will gather on it, and the sun that dries it.
Some nights a firefly
blinks at my window;
my lovely mysterious suitor.
Ancient acorn woman
wanders the forest floor
tends the wild rose
Dark as midnight
sentry at the garden’s edge
denouncing the dawn garden feasting of deer
Set down your troubles
at the foot bridge to the path
that leads deep into the woods
and let the wind carry them away.
From the nest to the branch was a short hop,
more courage will be needed
to fully venture into the world.
The pond shares her wisdom
in the beauty of calmness
and importance of multiple perspectives.
Mother Nature’s remnants
speak to me
of the secret lives in the forest
Throw off your elfin cap
and shout out the color of your summer joy.
I pray that my verve be as tenacious as yours.
What shall we do together dear useful friend
write a letter, build a canoe, kindle a fire
or listen to the wind in your leaves?
Midsummer brings the brown eyed susan,
cone flower, cosmo, pink and lavendar
onto the table, bedside and mantle.
An abundance of beauty.
Antlers embrace pods from the Japanese maple tree,
a shrine to the seasons of life and bounty of Sunday Mountain,
a place to worship.
Like the birds and bears
we indulge in the sun warmed burst of sweet tartness on the tongue.
Unlike them we hoard for pies and buckles and jam.
The earth has mushroom eyes
that watch us from the ground,
counting our steps.
Fear not the dark cloud and storm
for as they pass they herald even as they obscure
sunshine and the blue hues of heaven
Fluffy dog feet, wet with dew,
cross granite and grass
before arriving at the breakfast bowl.
The fern shades the baby bleeding heart
from the hot wilting sun
encouraging delicate leaves and tender blossoms