to bloom in solitude
is still
to bloom
Solitude
Congregating Calm
quiet fell
the garden hushed
enters into camaraderie with solitude
The Orchard In Winter
revealing the sense
of being solitary
inside togetherness
The Sky Sighs Snow
quiet
falls down and piles up
manifesting the white depth of solitude
Tucked Away
in the stillness
and the quiet
we begin again
Solitude
oh to be
tucked away in the woods
where only sunshine can find you
Off We Go
adding our tracks
to the worn path
alone together
Atop The Rock
while together
with everything
Solitude
I gave
my heart to nature
now I am never alone
Alone With Everything
down the soft pine needle path
amidst the tall tall trees
the breeze accompanies me
Across The Way
such comfort
brought by neighbors
we rarely see
The Bench In Solitude
wind
rests on the bench
waiting for direction
Discernment
sunlight and shadows
the only guests received
preservation of retreat
Unaccompanied
even in the solitude
every gesture mattered
conversation with self
Practice
the bench alone
in cold contemplation
deliberation of spring
Being A Part
solitude
inside community
being a part of the whole
Neighbor
rest and nest
in a house in the woods
where wind is the nearest neighbor
Solitude
morning’s memory
sparkling steps
of a midnight stroll
A Little Spot of Red
a grey fogged dawn
the lone pileated
seeks a kindred
Secluded
birch in the snow
with only their own shadows
for company
Eagle’s Perch
an open marsh
the solitary dead pine
this is where the eagle prays
Sharing Solitude
The owl gazed
into my soul
and left me whole
Rust
As winter edges closer
the woods become rust and grey.
Only the sound of one’s own footsteps
mulching leaves
interrupts the silence.
Opening
the entrance to the marsh
calls
be part of the peacefulness
Neighbor’s Light
Before the sun fully rises
the neighbor’s light across the way
is my kind companion in morning’s solitude.
Retreat
Awaken when the woodpecker knocks.
Birdsong accompanies the noontime meal.
Eagle’s cries announce the surrender of day to dusk.
Solitude
Alone in the fields
contemplation holds my hand.
Reverence is my path.
Trail
you are not alone.
The trail is marked.