Autumn Failings

A new crop is rising,

A crop of hats, mittens,


Dog toys and charcoal grills,

Picnic tables and croquet mallets,


Ripped tarps and broken flower pots,

All forgotten, abandoned when winter forced us inside and slammed the door behind us.


A crop not intentionally left behind, just not thought of

In the business of life, lack of day and lengthening nights.


Our forgetfulness was hidden by darkness.  In the awakening Spring,

The rakes and shovels are still hiding behind the trees, but


The lawn chairs and gnomes are springing up

From their blanket of snow,


They rise like statues, offerings to the Gods of Winter.

The snow retreats from their shoulders, knees and feet


To reveal the flattened un-mown lawn beneath them,

Left over proof of our Autumn failings.


We stare from our windows at the litter of

Leftovers and wonder how we could have forgotten them all as


They look back at us with blank faces,

Trying to pretend that it never really happened.

Candlelight, Soft Love and Raindrops

I hear the rain in the early morning darkness,

It’s sound muffled by the closed windows and leaf blanketed forest floor.


But its soft sound is enough to keep me awake,

Awake and day dreaming of happier times.


Of times when the sound of the rain brought sweet contentment and thankfulness

For its life giving qualities to my mind.


A time when it was summer’s refreshment,

And the garden sang in gratitude for its warm sweetness.


But now, as I sit here on my bed at 2:00 am, alone in this November darkness,

The droning on the roof only serves to remind me of our separateness,


Our aloneness and isolation, one from the other,

With the sound of the rain our only connection.


This simple connecting sound brings me to thoughts of him and

I picture him in his room,


Lying beneath his white down comforter,

While the rain drops roll in rivers down his bedroom windows.


The rain’s sound is amplified by the sloping eves of his bedroom ceiling where the soft flicker of candle light dances.


The memory of the warmth of his body lying next to mine takes my breath away.

I can feel his long lean limbs, light but strong, wrapped around me in complete trust


As together we sleep as one, our separateness abandoned and replaced by a union of warmth, safety and love.


But slowly my day dream fades and reality comes seeping back to me in my empty bed and

The sound of the rain outside my window becomes the sound of my tears.


Although the scene in my mind fades away into the darkness of this November night,

My thoughts stay with him.


And as I try once again to lose myself in the healing peace of sleep

I become aware of the missing sound of my heart beating in my chest.


It seems my heart has left me and has chosen instead to stay behind in my day dream with him.

But I don’t feel betrayed or upset with its abandonment for


I cannot blame it for wising to remain in the sweet memory of candlelight, soft love and raindrops, I understand – it is my wish as well.

Dreaming – a poem written by my lovely daughter, Chelsea! Such talent, such a lovely young woman :)


The air is crisp and biting as it travels down into my lungs.

I hear the trees’ bare limbs creak and whine in their icy blankets.

The ground is cold and hard where the grass once tickled my toes.

I savor the brief few minutes of sun that warm my naked face.

I miss the smell of dirt and the sound of rustling leaves…

I miss the sound of heavy booted feet on rocky mountain paths…

I miss the long awaited cool breeze on a hot summer day…

I miss bird song, thunderstorms, and roasting marshmallows on the campfire…

But Spring will come again as it always does,

The sun will shine and the snow will melt,

The ground will soften and grass will grow,

The trees will wake and grow their new leaves,

But for now,

It is silent…

Everything is sleeping…



Dreaming of Spring…

The Watcher of the Wood

From my bedroom window

I watch the woodland change with the seasons.

On the corner of the house, a maple branch hugs the windowsill

Its leaves framing my view of the forest.

How can I explain the secret life of leaves I observe from my window and the

Magical growth that takes place in silence unseen?

I can think of no words to use, so instead I just watch, I watch the breeze

ruffle the leaves and the branches move together in the wind like fans made of feathers.

And then the rain comes and I watch the drops play the

Leaves like keys on a piano.

I am content with my role as watcher and marvel at the strength and skill the trees employ when they interlock  their arms to form an impenetrable force of gentle power in silence.

These graceful tree spirits are woven together by the hand of God to create

The framework of the forest.

They surround my home and speak to my soul and

My heart hears their thoughts and hopes,

And I realize and know that they are

Not so different from me.

I understand and accept that we share this planet and are

Children of the One in all our varied forms

All connected,

All equal in the eyes of our creator.

And the peace and stillness of the wood

pervades my soul and feeds my spirit and makes me one with those who stand outside looking in.

Haiku 4 poems

Uncommon fair time again

All natural and good

Wholesomeness is its hallmark


I expect so little now

Is it still to much?

Let go, watch me fall apart


The birds are very busy

They sense it is here

Frost on the field this morning


The humming birds are now gone

No one saw them leave

They slipped away in the night

The Courage of Autumn

Swift summer snuck in,

Greening up from the edges, shading the forest floor.

It came complete with lovely summer evenings

Where warm breezes filled the night,

And a blanket of starts twinkled in the

Dark humid haze.
The August thunder filled my soul

With its power and its wildness renewed me.

My garden produced produce from the earth

Feeding my soul as richly as it fed my body.

This summer was a season of energy and rapid growth.

There was no time to waste, “bloom now, don’t be afraid” was its message.

But now, without warning, the days begin to shorten,

The afternoon shadows grow longer.

Late night mists form as the heart of summer

Makes its escape back to the sky from where it came.

The golden sunglow fades from my skin as it

Has from the fields.

A summer season of riotous beginnings looses its energy and

Fades into the arms of autumn.

As the seasons change, so must I.

I need to return to the safety and warmth of my home and

Gather my growings to feed my body as I gather my loves

To sustain my soul through the cold, dark time to come.

Autumn is the time to return to what was, to what came before

Summer’s brief and beautiful interruption.

Fearlessly and with a final burst of thanks in colors of red and gold,

The earth has gently shed its past with its leaves.

If only I could shed mine with such courage and beauty.