202… 203… 204 bright green made separate by light cracking through. A silent shore brings a breeze and I watch one fall. A green ambassador from a heaven slightly out of reach. Did I already count this angel or was he yet unknown? I watch him hit the sand. I bless him in his graceful [...]
Posts Tagged ‘Nature’
Counting Leaves
Posted in Poetry, tagged counting, leaves, Memory, Nature, Poetry, the mind, the self, writing on August 23, 2009 | 3 Comments »
A Piece of My Mind
Posted in Poetry, tagged aesthetics, human, life, Nature on November 7, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
I sit refusing sand particles become me they sit refusing shape. Ages ago water broke us down from the whole words, waters, baptism the once united now claim their nothing individual dry, dry, dried by the sun They are one. I sit wet from rain we are now mud together what is left of the [...]
Every Year…
Posted in Pastoral, Poetry, tagged Bridges, meaning, Moving On, Nature, river, Words on October 7, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
We never intend our voice to be a mirror after a year. Writing is a release – that means don’t come back. To cry the tear of a reader to pose a question – to describe a lack. The cocoon sealed green opens and the history of those people is a stream reflecting light. Water [...]
Coffee. My Morning Miracle.
Posted in Pastoral, Poetry, tagged Beauty, Coffee, Miracles, Nature, Running on April 16, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
The black asphalt leaks steam as the sun rises. A short run prolongs my morning caffeine Long enough for me to travel a mile of rough natural terrain. A man, far larger than me, in a gray hoodie is suddenly labeled a thief, or rapist, or murder… He smiles and runs by. Perhaps he thought I was young or pretty. [...]
A Tree Stands Against the Sun
Posted in Pastoral, Poetry, tagged Love, Nature, Poetry, Time on October 1, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
A tree stands against the sun in protest. A girl bathing in its shadow there Allows the wind to shake her tress The limbs, the bough, the stagnant air And brings them to the moon Who waits on the otherside of somewhere. At the height of noon When from the wooden breast the shadow shifts, [...]
