In an Early spring meadow
Tree skeletons stand stark,
Silhouetted in the fog.
The meadow’s undulating waves of grass,
Appear and disappear in the mist.
A familiar landscape,
Changed only by drops of dew.
Category: nature
I’ll Save Your Place
The doors and windows are open wide and welcome
The wind as it blows through my house and my soul.
It brings a beingness of light and truth, peace and love, disguised as wind.
Trees sway in its beauty,
Souls sing in harmony with its truth and
The unconscious void is filled with its one love.
I know that the empty void from my past existed only in my mind.
My mind was deluded and swayed by the ways of the world but now,
I am neither of the world nor in the world as
The world is in me and you and you and you…
There is no separateness in our beings but great diversity in our humanness,
As it should be, as it was meant to be. The contrast is beautiful.
“Between the silence of the mountains and the crashing of the sea, there lives a land I once lived in and he’s waiting there for me” Moody Blues
So… will you meet me there, in the silence of the mountains, in the void of fullness, in a world of our own making
Where the wind blows its truth into our souls
And surrounds our hearts with love?
If I get there first, I’ll save your place.
Will you do the same for me?
Inner Stillness in Predawn Darkness
There is inner stillness in the predawn darkness as
The forest begins to stir around me.
They seem to notice my presence
“Someone is among us”, they mummer.
As I sit in silence and wait,
The Eastern sky begins to lighten and
The earth responds with movement,
Air movement, a stirring, ever so slight and gentle,
More sensed than felt.
I continue to sit in silence and wait.
At last I can feel them coming closer, one by one.
Not in outer distance but in inner peace.
As they circle me I can feel them saying “Welcome”.
They bring such wisdom in their silence.
Such kindness without motion or audible voice
But a voice nonetheless, a voice that is felt with the soul
Not heard with the ears.
A voice that is eons old, no, older than that:
A voice that has existed since the beginning of time.
Since the time before manifestation.
Their voices speak to me in the sweet darkness of the woods
Telling me a tale of love, acceptance and kindness.
A story of life, of the essences of loss and the pain of suffering,
Of the agony of misunderstanding and mind induced perceptions, and
Selfish longings and needs: all of my own making.
But there is sympathy and empathy in these voices too, they know the pain,
They have felt the suffering, tasted the tears and watched their own hearts melt with disappointment.
The agony of loss is no stranger to their collective heart, so they truly understand my
State of mind today and give me comfort and love in a way only they can.
They know how I miss he who passed through the veil, they know him and he them. They are one together and it is his presence they allow me to feel here in this mourning morning softness.
The trees are my saviors; they surround me with their gentle strength and hold me in their arms
In the hardest of times, they understand without judgment, they feel my heart beat with theirs
As they stand together – silent sentinels of everlasting light and hope in
Noble silence and truth.
I am renewed by their strength, honored by their kindness and
Forever grateful for their love.
The Soulscape of My Heart
Outcroppings of rock and
Lichen covered pinnacles of grandeur are
God’s favorite places.
Here he lets us see,
Lets us in on the secret of what makes him happy.
His eyes sculpted the mountains with a glance,
His hands scooped the valleys with ease giving light and dark a place to play.
His breath still powers the winds that sail and howl over the cliffs
And stir the hearts of human kind.
The mountains are God’s sacred place and
A place where I go to feel His power,
To be closer to heaven
To touch and feel His love.
He exists forever in the hard landscape of rock and
In the soft soulscape of my heart.
Star Soul
Star shine drips from the night sky and runs along the naked winter tree branches like syrup
Leaving iridescent trails of silver to wrap around the rough barked trunks.
The sliver shine lights my way
As it spills star souls on the forest floor and
While I follow the star trails, eons pass in an instant and eternity sleeps
In the soft warm glow of acceptance and starlight.
The cold surrounds my soul and heart in these winter depths but the
Dense air adds clarity to my vision as I walk the trails of stars.
They take me to a different place, a place at once new and ancient,
A place to observe all in silence while cloaked in the winter wood.
I see mosses hold their breath in the glow of the star-flow and hear them whispering their secrets to a silent waiting cosmos while holding tightly to the trunks of the trees.
Late geese fly across the moon, their cries urgent in the night sky
Confused by the uncommon shimmering silver ground below.
I am not alone in this realm of silver winter as
The forest is full of the souls and spirits of summer’s love.
I feel them all around me, darting in and out of tree shadows,
Stopping to watch me from behind drifts of truth and light.
The discarded autumn leaves warm the soil beneath the drifts
And life waits in patient stillness.
My mind becomes as still as the waiting life as I travel the empty space between the stars reflected in the snow’s white depth.
There is no urgency in me or in this place
Only the beauty and silence of peace and star light.
The winter forest is a secret,
A complete world in and of itself hiding in plain sight.
Its silence a decoy to protect its love lying safe and secure underground.
Go to the forest; breathe in the silent dripping starshine,
Follow the starlight as it traces the outline your soul.
Blend with the magic of the forest as
It is only there under the canopy of eternity that you can become as silent and still
As the dense crisp air surrounding you and once again, as in the beginning,
Go home to that place within that holds you in the soft silver glow of now and
Within that silent place returns you to wholeness.
The soul of the winter forest knows and understands you.
She is waiting for your return.
A Perfect Autumn Afternoon
The cottage windows were frosted at daybreak and with the cold morning sunlight,
My skylight became a witness to a shower of golden leaves falling on the roof.
A gentle creaking and crackling came from the wood stove as
The flames warmed it and me from within.
Baked beans simmered in the oven for hours
And filled my house with delicious aromas.
Now, as the afternoon shadows grow longer, I am warm and toasty in my robe
With a half-knitted sweater on my lap while
All around me is softness, warmth and peace.
A perfect Autumn afternoon.
October Haiku
Green fades from tree tops
Grass stops growing beneath them
October is here
Just Like You
The grass has stopped growing.
The sunflowers have stopped following the sun.
Summer snuck out when I wasn’t looking,
Just
Like
You.
Just One More Time
Early Autumn thunder,
The thinning tree leaves let it in.
Their resistance is weaker, less resilient.
They nod their heads in confusion and look to each other for explanation as
Thunder rocks their roots and
Lightening sparkles in the air around them.
It is an unusual storm for Autumn as it
Comes in on strong northwest winds with the violence of a humid August storm,
As if needing to prove its might just one more time before
Winter’s cold takes its strength away.
Each season’s change is a mix of the one before and the one to come.
No wonder the trees look confused.
Between Seasons
The forest is different now,
Everything has changed.
The sky’s blue is colder,
The north wind is stronger, and
The trees’ summer green has faded.
Their leaves, lighter green now, are studded with hints of red and gold, brown and yellow.
My garden plants are lying over
As if to say “enough”.
They are entitled, they have given me all they can.
But nasturtiums, marigolds and impatients are troopers and refuse to let go.
They will stay strong until the frost’s icy fingers drag them down to rejoin the earth and sleep.
Summer’ song birds have long since flown away, and in their absence
All I hear are the crickets and the crows.
Autumn evenings are chilly and quiet, the silence broken by the occasional lonely bark of a fox and the haunting calls of the owls.
Heavy wind chimes hanging in my forest have been silent all summer but
Now sing with the strength of autumn winds while thistle down floats by in layers of life to be.
This season between the seasons is one of slow change but with an inevitable end.
There is no turning back, no chance to stay and nowhere else to go.
But in spite of this certainty, there is no turmoil, no angst or resistance among the trees and flowers for they know
This is how it should be, how it must be,
How it has always been.
One season losing its grip and
Sliding gently into the next.
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