mountains of snow
gather on each pane
showing us this storm’s terrain
The Dear Nearness Of The Wilderness
miles of mountains
populated only by trees
as it should be
Dream Land
in the terrain of dreams
every worm and woodpecker hole
is a passageway to the realm beyond
Up and Across
each trunk and branch
points the way
no wrong turns
only new paths
Twin Peaks
the summit
must be heaven
where angels sherpa
Expectation
across the winter muted terrain
dogwood grew a net of color
with hopes of catching spring
Outcropping
The granite ledge
makes itself known
by refusing all trees.