new wonders
on old paths
the magic of snow
Made New
Like Buttercups
yellow blossoms
adorning the path
blessing us with color
The Rooted Path
tree roots lattice the path
gentle stairs we ascend
in our journey towards the light
Into The Woods
follow the path
then make your own
the woods are truly home
Granite Garden Path
walk the sun warmed stone
admire the colorful creep of phlox
perceive spring’s unfolding
Together
we walk through shadows
and last years leaves
determining a path to the future
The Still Green Path
wander along the waning meadow
beside busy insects gathering
and seeds scattering
A Sculpted Path
mosaic of moss
with dappled shade
invitation to wander
Fern Shadows
painted by the sun
your delicate constitution
echos on the woodland path
Night Traveler
alone
you wove your way
into the light of a new day
Steel Steed
forever galloping
through the seasons
of the meadow
The Goings Of September
we wander the waning meadow
stopping to marvel
at every remaining bloom
Told By The Road
the future is uncertain
but for this
together we go on
Winding Path
the finest way to travel
is meandering
making the path as you go
Winter’s Wandering Path
a smidge of snow
the glittering cold
many storms still to go
Call Of The Dappled Path
traverse the shadows
and the light
go greet the unknown
Always Listening
by name or whistle
the call of the wild abandoned
speeding towards the comforts of home
Scout In The Woods
blazing the trail
but always keeping
within sight
Autumn
shadows
are gaining ground
but light refuses full retreat
Come In
at the front door
flowers will
greet your feet
Be Where Your Feet Are
the here
of now
contains everything
Wander The Garden
the spirit restores
finding the space of place
along gracious paths
Beyond Abundance
in the flowering meadow
even the path
insists on blooming
Follow The Light
put one brave foot
in front of the other
on the shadowy path
What Wandering Reveals
the worn path
a line of desire
made known
Off We Go
adding our tracks
to the worn path
alone together
Chasing Blue Skies
on the trail
our scouts
Talking Sticks
tell
the woodland’s story
The Way
gentle path
through the flowering field
the road to happy destiny
In The Dooryard Of The Birdhouse
bloomed around us
it was enough just to be
