morning opened
to the enchanted world
where Aslan might call upon us
Narnia
The Particular Disposition Of Winter
a storm assembles
in the woods
the weight and shape of cold
To Everything Its Counterpart
winter’s shadows
blue with cold
disputed by the sky
Reaching For Each Other
stepping stones
growing into the whole
of a frozen crossing
Sacred
deep in the woods
the humble tree hollow
a temple we pilgrimage to
A Sugaring Snow
here for just a moment
not enough to increase
the mountain’s hips
Rush
before winter’s cold
stalls the journey
a mad dash to the ocean
The Light Like A Kiss Goodbye
sneaking in
beneath the storm
a caress of light and warmth
The River Bend’s Instruction
when turning corners
take your time
to wander is the way
First Strangers Then Friends
deep in the woods
these three strangers
offered shelter
Invisible Work
birds and seeds
plot the creation
of spring
In An Instant
a single ray of light
splits the darkness open
an entrance for possibilities
The Earth
dark and dense
like a good chocolate cake
first snow a powdered sugar dusting
The Request
the way the light
was dancing in the woods
it was an invitation to enter
Asylum
some of the color
that has left the woods
finds refuge on the island
Bell In The Woods
rung only by the wind
calling out to winter
calling back to summer
Harmony
narrative of a perfect afternoon
written by the four parallels of
lines, light, water, rock
Seeking Unification
here’s the gold
searching
for its rainbow
Fall Bids Us To
wake up and embrace
the glorious beauty
of every fleeting moment
Learning To Fly
the seeds
are feathered
and ready for flight
Invitation
autumn left
the gate open so
summer’s end could enter
Combinations
this morning held everything
each possible
presence and absence
The Dance
wanting each moment
to last forever
impatient for what is next
First Hint Of Fall
a quick kiss
by the cool breeze
on the landscape’s cheek
A Place For Togetherness
let’s not let
the picnic bench
be lonely
Call Of The Dappled Path
traverse the shadows
and the light
go greet the unknown
With The Trees
I am nurtured
by the eloquent silence
of the young woods
Mist Rise
each valley releases
last night’s cold
into the new day
august August
the sky
and the garden
moving towards fall
inquisitive finch
what are you
doing here
he wondered