The birch lies with lichen and leaves
only to rise again in the next season
as hope eternal, the spring ephemerals.
Silent Music
In the quiet white of flakes descending
my heart beats in perfect rhythm
with the universe.
Late Afternoon
Shadows are the arms of time
reaching toward twilight.
Slope
Many Mountains
When I know
the shapes in the distance
I know where I am.
Retired Workers
Rust may diminish their substance
but their labor has shaped
the land on which they rest.
Hallelujah
The glory
of goodness
surrounds us.
Nearness
You know the divine.
It radiates light and calls you to it.
Sometimes its name is beauty.
Arrival
At the sacred spot
you will reach a delicate fence
of frost frozen flowers.
Tranquility
A light dusting of snow
quiets the woods with peace enough
to sooth the world.
The Choir
Seedheads sing
winter’s carols
in the wind.
Woodland Tapestry
against the silver backdrop of bare branches
weeds and leaves
are the warp and woof of the landscape
Outcropping
The granite ledge
makes itself known
by refusing all trees.
Undaunted
by winter’s demands
evergreens refuse to release color or needles
and stand in defiant contrast to the ever greying landscape.
Quiet White
Winter
white washes
the woods.
Aspiration
Branches reach
through blue sky and clouds
to touch the heavens.
Ocean Grass
the meadow waves
lap at the birch shore line
The Spirit of Colors
Colors emanate
from bare branches
autumn’s aura
Golden Thread and Meadow Ribbon
A sparkling of frost
gloriously gift wraps
the meadow.
Destination
Through the dried grass
the wooden path
leads to winter.
Opening
the entrance to the marsh
calls
be part of the peacefulness
Unfailing
A sliver of moon
the morning star
day breaks
In the Highest
Heaven’s joy
reaches out to us
in an extravagance of colors.
Union
Mist marries
the mountain
to the lake.
Remains
Only a tiny ember
of fall’s glorious fireworks
remains in the landscape.
The Bird Box
In silent anticipation
the whole marsh waits for
the grace of the bluebird’s arrival.
Morning Mist
the sun will unveil
today’s mystery and magic.
Awake
I dream
of golden clouds
and painted fields.
Connection
The bench by the pond
my meeting place with God.
Morning Comes
no matter
how dark
the night.
