On Taking Turns

Our spring bird’s about to be sprung. But often, before she has sung, that rude man called Summer struts in like a bummer and belts at the top of his lungs.

Living Trees

The skeletons of the trees are not the dead things they used to be to me. I grow older, and the winter folds her hope into the cold with gentle fingers. The moonlight lingers, the starlight sings her melodies to seasons while the trees, donned in mere bark, freeze. The empty, graying hands rise and […]

Winter Worship

Praise to the Lord for the brown and the spare for branches devoid of their leaves, for ashling grey tree trunks all fallen and bare, for bushes blown sad in the breeze. – Praise for the sky-clouds that shadow the sun: for wintery silvery gauze, for knowing when all of the flowers are gone nature […]

The Bench by the Home

He sat upon the bench beside the home reading his paper every day, or mounded both his hands upon his cane looking lithely out upon the field. And sometimes, when I came that way he called me by my name. And every time my path would wind that way I saw him sitting there. While […]

A Tree Converses

A tree converses in a quiet way, tossing branches, arching in the spring. It greens it’s welcome, verdant home away for birds who’ve traveled, longingly on wing. – I tree in summer wears its glory light richly pleased at how it lines the cloud it stands attention, cooly tempers bright with shady silence, helpful and […]

New Life

That tree, leafing green dead, gray, ungrown just last fall, chirps forth in new song. – – – Photo by Alexey Demidov: https://www.pexels.com

Time Fall

Time skips like the squirrel tossing through the frosty leaves desperate for acorns. – – – Photo by Kirill Zenin: https://www.pexels.com

Pageantry

Glowing medal slinging rays, coruscant, burnished, light, killing time in grand displays, come meet me after night. – – – Image by Christine Cravens from Pixabay

The Golden Leaves

The golden leaves have fallen now— cracked and brown and dying, swirling in the autumn air that slips around me, sighing. All that’s left of a youthful dream, conceived in winter’s wait and born beneath the sun’s warm gaze when all the trees create. So soft—the pink and white unfolding— blossoms on the trees that […]