The sound of rain takes me to a place of inner peace as it

Falls in sheets, slides down the roof and over its edge in a curtain of water.

Tree leaves dance with the weight of the rain and

Flowers wash their faces in its freshness.

The sky is lower on rainy days and

Holds me close to the ground.

Forest sounds are muted and muffled and

Light is  defused into grayness.

It is not a sad and depressing grayness,

But a soothing and peaceful shade,

Full of the necessity of remembered sorrows and joys.

I love a  rainy day that is soft and dark.  It begs me to stop, rest, and be mindful of my surroundings and loves.

It reminds me to take the time to be lulled by the patter of rain on the windows

Into a place of inner stillness,

And there remain, content to just be and

Accept what is.

Nature’s balance (re-post from 2015)

Purple thunder, speaking sky.

The sound sneaks in to doubting ears.

But soon, unable to be ignored, it rolls in

Splitting the sky,

Singing to my heart

And watering the earth.

As the storm approaches, the lights go out.

The air is still and filled with anticipation.

Birds become silent and

Trees grow heavy.

The rain follows the clouds

And the wind rocks the trees to the sound of the sky.

Heavy air crushes the field and

Rain pummels the garden.

Plants, grass and trees shake in the torrent and rivers run along

The roadside washing away the day’s dust.

The very earth trembles with the power of the storm

As lightening spells its name in the sky.

The black clouds race across the heavens and

Carry the storm on their backs.

But all too soon for me, the western horizon brightens, the

Energy is spent, the storm subdued.

Sunrays break through the darkness and

The earth sparkles and shines in its fresh – washed brilliance.

The storm has run its course,

Released its tension and fulfilled its purpose.

The birds resume their song, the brook runs full,

The garden is watered and the earth refreshed.

The thunder returns to silence and

Nature’s balance is restored.




Stunted trees

Bend and cower from the wind.

Its Winter howling is incessant.

Its cold all pervasive.

The mountain side Bearberry brambles

Grip tightly to the glacier scarred rocks for safety as the wind

Flows in rivers of the sky

From the White Mountains to the sea.

It feels its way with outstretched arms

Solid and real, over a

Path that is well worn and familiar into the valleys

And river beds along the way.

The power of the wind pushes the sound of thunder ahead of it

And Carries the storm clouds on its back.

It washes over the landscape

In partnership with the trees.

It is a force that can move them to dance,

Shake them to their roots, and love them with its allover touch.

Mountains and trees diminish the wind.

They sap its strength with their reluctance to let it go.

They want to hold on, to experience its freedom and lightness

They yearn for a chance to throw off their earthly chains and soar above the land.

But in the end, at the last, the sea is the master leaving

The wind no choice but to rush into its out-stretched arms, to be consumed by the waves,

To become one with the spray, white with its foam,

And in the crashing of the wind powered waves on the shore,

Release its energy back into the realm from which it came,

Completely the cycle once again.


Storm Dance

 Coastal dunes slide and slip into the sea

As the storm rolls on to the north.

Gulls scurry to grab unfortunate crabs washed ashore by the crashing waves.

Seaweed floats and ripples with the waves like grass in the wind and

Salty sea spray coats the disinterested windows of empty houses on the shore.

The tourists have all left for the season

Leaving the ocean and beach to carry on with their lover’s dance

Un-witnessed and unashamed, with freedom and reckless abandon.    

After The Rain

The joy of a muddy puddle after a rain and

Spider webs stretched out on the grass waiting to dry.


Rain makes tree trunks darker on west facing sides with

Moss growing toward the north.


Forest fallen leaves flattened by winter’s snows awaken after the spring rain and

Crisp morning air envelopes the crystal blue sky of a new cloudless day.


Dawn brings a new world each and every morning, while

Night’s darkness hides the transformation from yesterday to today.


The world of this moment is a different world from yesterday’s,

From an hour ago, from a moment ago.


It all is in flux, all impermanent but dependable in its trustworthy impermanence and

Therein lays the joy of a muddy puddle after the rain.


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.

Alone in the Darkness

Thunderstorms, candlelight and


Lightening has taken the light away,

My house and my universe are in darkness.

Candles and lightening flicker

Illuminating a small space around me,

Showing me what is

Possible, but unseen.

The darkness’s flickers of hope

Mirror the hope of my heart.

My love is like the darkens,

It surrounds me,

Envelopes me but shows me

Flickers of what could be.

I have been alone, always,

Or so it seems.

My heart aches for the special connection.

A love to hold my hand in these beautiful times of thunderstorms and candlelight,

And share with me my essence, my joy in all there is,

But I guess he doesn’t want to and I don’t know why…

Oh, I can make it alone.  It is what I know.

But it is comfortable in its dependability only.

The thunder brings the sky to life,

Then returns it to silence.

As he brings me to life when he is here,

And returns me to silence when he leaves.

I need more time, more time to learn to love the right way,

I have tried, I keep trying, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

I don’t know what I am missing,

Just who I am missing.

And so I sit, on this lovely evening of thunderstorms and candlelight,

My hand un-held, my heart still alone, and I don’t know why.

Maybe I should be grateful for small things, at least this time

My love is worth crying over.