when architects are trees
the fallen a log bridge
a root an arch
No Need For Nails
Face Of The Fallen Log
surprise
at the softness
of the pine needle landing
Lace Maker
the log
dressed up for fall
a collar of frilly fungi
Mirth In The Woods
it started as a giggle
and grew into a guffaw
the laughter of this log
Grumpy
harumph hunched the heron
they never make a box
big enough for me
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
Replicating Reptiles
scute and scaled
no longer a log
now a crocodile
Storing Knowledge
the wisdom of the woods
upon a mushroom shelf
Call Of Attention
of color rises
from the forest floor
Talking Sticks
tell
the woodland’s story
Wander
where the big mushrooms
grow
Vestiges
nestled between
the snow and log
late fall’s remains
One Of Two
each circle self distinct
bark barrier between
but time and proximity
merge two into one
At The Edge
listening
to the purple
echos
Painted Heron
early morning
old master work
on the marsh
Summertime
the practice
of doing
nothing
Start
tiny specks of green
cultivating all of spring
profundity of small sensibilities
Buche de Noel
mushroomed and mossed
the forrest’s
confection of perfection
Vibrations
attune attention
to the frequency
of nature’s beauty
Fallen
There is no failure in falling.
While the descent may be hard
repose eventually softens all difficulty.
This is the grace of transformation.