dropped
at the sighting
of this winter’s den
Bear’s Binoculars
Layers
the birch sheds
her bark cocoon
revelation after revelation
Face Of The Fallen Log
surprise
at the softness
of the pine needle landing
Found
another piece
to the puzzle
of life
Bedazzling Bark
extraordinary
in the ordinary
a thing being itself
They Covered It With Flowers
discarding bark
beetles carve
a bas-relief
So Many Workers Of Joy
we come upon
the elves hat rack
Santa’s workshop must be near
The Tree’s Topography
a map of life
the bark divulging
her valleys and mountains
Tree-Side Village
the wee-est of the wee forest creatures
lived in a village on a tree
safe and snug and happy as can be
Phantom Limb
I still see
the rope swing, the wood pecker
your tender leaf buds and glorious colors of fall
Pink Birch
all across the landscape
in frills of paper bark
my favorite valentine
Made On The Maple
each texture
a distinct form of life
together creating a new universe
Affinity of Land And Sea
coral reefs on fallen logs
likenesses of
the ocean in the forest
Small And Sharp Like Puppy Teeth
the cold
has just begun
to nibble at the world
Stillness
the lichen
and the leaves
find their autumnal repose
Self Propelled
the birch’s ruffles
don’t need the wind
to flutter
Circa 1783
interior side of bark
from the Lone Pine
a mosaic of time
After The Party
forest fairies
leave behind
the tiniest table setting
Impersonations
the tree
a zebra
in green
Some Of Everything
the stillness
and the movement
the decomposing and the growing
Storing Knowledge
nature places
the wisdom of the woods
upon a mushroom shelf
Little Bird
perched on the tree
gleeful
with seed
Two Things At Once
bark like
gold leaf
a statue of a tree
A Marriage Of Maple And Birch
distinct
and yet
together
The Woodpecker
plumpness
as preparation
for winter
Rendezvous
every year they meet
at the base of the tree
their love renewed each spring
Arrival
even the leaves
came
two by two
Clouds On A Tree
they gathered on the bark
the cosmos
could be touched
The Woods
still at rest
lichen
the only green
Braile
the old tree’s message
is read
by the wind