Finding Home

[image from stormgrounds.com]

Are you out

in the forest

searching

for a path,

looking

high and low

among

the trees ?

Are you frightened

by the wild wind

howling through

the branches,

and the low moan

it makes

just before

a tall pine

crashes to

the forest floor?

Are you wondering

if you'll

lose your way

when darkness

falls?

Come home.

Come home.

I'll leave

a lighted candle

in the window,

to guide your way.

Watch for

its glow

and, by its radiance,

make your
slow way

home,

home

to yourself,

once again.

Meditation On Green

Posted for Poets United  Poetry Pantry

the color of life, of growth,
tall, spindly pine
draped in old man's beard
a thousand fern fronds
under whose umbrella
twin blooms
small as a baby's tears
peek pertly
jagged stump
covered in soft thick moss
framed by tall cedars
among whose lofty branches
songbirds flit
their trill echoing
across the sleepy forest
winding trails
through the silence
paths springy, living
underfoot
where we walk
heads thrown back
-alive!-
one with the ferns the fronds the trees
their height that teaches us to strive
the sky
a compass for
all our flighty dreams
clouds drifting by
one breath two breaths
leafy breath
and human sigh
birdsong
ringing through
the silent canopy
piercing me through
with each piercing
I'm made new
becoming
becalming
forest floor alive
under our
live feet
step so lightly
don't crush the mosses!
fairies drinking dewdrops
from the white bell-shaped blossoms
frogs in the skunk cabbage
yellow jonquils
line the deadened pond
the forest holds its breath
and waits
it waits
till we are gone

HYMN OF PRAISE

Wind whispers
through the canopy
like lake ripples
through the trees

Small leaves spiral
thick as raindrops,
pixies dancing
on the breeze

Sunlight consecrating trees-
almost, I hear an organ sound:
I, pilgrim and acolyte,
the golden forest
hallowed ground

Birch bark like ancient manuscript
writ by a gnarled and pointy hand
tells tales of olden times long-gone,
bygone days upon the land

Once again, the breeze-song swells,
upon the wind a hymn of praise:
to these blessed simple days,
these days we have,
a hymn of praise

forest trails......

May 2001

Fresh, mint-green, new-leafed canopy
brown well-trodden path winding ahead,
birds singing lyrically, darting among the branches
and, at knee level, tiny bright blue butterflies bumble about
like beings with no eyes
among the pink-flowered
wild raspberry canes.

Hymn of Praise

October 4, 2001

Wind whispers

through the canopy

like lake ripples

through the trees

Small leaves spiral

thick as raindrops,

pixies dancing

on the breeze

Sunlight consecrating trees -

almost I hear an organ sound:

I, pilgrim and acolyte,

the golden forest

hallowed ground

Birch bark like ancient manuscript

writ by a gnarled and pointy hand

tells tales of olden times long-gone,

bygone days upon the land

Once again, the breeze-song swells,

upon the wind a hymn of praise:

to these blessed simple days,

these days we have,

a hymn of praise.

*** *** *** ***

July 22, 1999

Graceful heron

swooping across

the evening sky

like a pteradactyl,

Prehistoric bird

perched on a treetop,

My heart swoops with you,

then stills,

standing by the silent pond,

waiting for the night to settle

around us both

softly as feathers.

*** *** *** ***

SONG OF THE FROGS

July 9, 1999

Song of the frogs

in the fading light

soft fade the hills

in the falling night

God touching earth

with a gentle might

and all is beauty

within my sight

soft falls the light

on garden walls

a rose-hued mountain

as day's curtain falls

a froggy symphony

serenades the night sky

and grateful, grateful, grateful

I.

*** *** *** *** ***

meditation on green

july 1, 2001

the color of life, of growth,

tall, spindly pine

draped in old man's beard

a thousand fern fronds

under whose umbrella

twin blooms

small as a baby's tears

peek pertly

jagged stump

covered in soft thick moss

framed by tall cedars

among whose lofty branches

songbirds flit

their trill echoing across

the sleepy forest

winding trails

through the silence

paths springy, living

underfoot

where we walk

heads thrown back

-alive!-

one with the ferns the fronds the trees

the height that teaches us to strive

the sky

a compass for

all our flighty dreams

clouds drifting by

one breath two breaths

leafy breath

and human sigh

birdsong

ringing through the silent

canopy

piercing me

through

with each piercing

I'm made new

becoming

becalming

forest floor alive

under our live feet

step so lightly

dont crush the mosses!

fairies drinking dewdrops

from the white bell-shaped blossoms

frogs in the skunk cabbage

yellow jonquils

line the deadened pond

the forest holds its breath

and waits

it waits

till we are

gone.

*** *** *** ***