A Late January Hike...

 A late January hike

on a cool and damp winter day

is a rare chance

for finding reckless sophistication

in a stripped-down Winter Woods

The lichen on the Oak trees

and ghost leaves upon the Beech

can best be seen

touched

heard

felt

on days such as this

 Without walking through these woods

on a gray day like today

how would I know what I had missed?

 Wild-lands are all the more Wild

on a day that promises sleet

and discomfort.

 The woodpecker's thick laughter, 

all the more mad.

And there is a magic frost that can only be seen

for those prepared to rise early

be cold 

and drape on the old cloak of winter

Words on the Water

I read the words on the water

telling me a secret, there,

just beneath the surface of the stream

and the words floated away

into the dark depths

keeping its secret

safe

Into a Dark World

Into a dark world,
he had discovered a bit of color
that left him wondering
where the color had all gone,
and how long it had been gone...

It was the splash of color that
awakened him to its absence
and sent his mind a-wondering.

"It's a mystery," he said.
"That's what it is."

And so, he set out to solve it.

Wise Spirits

They were wise spirits

and strong

waiting for a change

that they would make come

When the Leaves Were Finally Gone

She went to the woods

when the leaves were finally gone

and there, she counted the stars

Leaving No Trail

Laying across the surface,

like beech leaves sitting on the snow,

she became weightless and

left no trail behind her

Believe It

There is a light

playing upon the darkened water

and living colors

skimming across the blackened creek

There is a hope

wandering across a desert of despair

and grace finding her way

over and through a briar patch of pain

And there is Always... 

there is always life dancing upon death

So Rooted

He stands like a tree

and finds himself, so rooted,

he decides to stay

Something in the Shadows

Something in the shadows moves,

footsteps barely heard over the

rolling sobriety of the stream

a shadow within a shadow 

dodging from the corner of my world

like a dart towards

an out-of-sight target

What Is Needed

I am opposed

as a matter of principle

to noise

I am willing to make an occasional allowance

for an ambulance, for instance,

or a fire engine

But only grudgingly

Rather, give me a rabbit

silently listening at a

field's edge

Or a cautious deer

gracefully whispering away

from sight

Give me the trickle of

a rain-swollen stream glazing

smooth pebbles

Or a deep gray fog rampaging

innocently through an

early morning woods

I can rest and be entirely at ease

with the rustle of fall leaves

skittering easterly

and I find that a blessed silence

is what is needed more often

than not.

Sunset, Over the Ridge

There lies a stillness

on the backside of the ridge

broken by nothing

but the cool lonesome wind

And to sit on the hillside

overlooking the valley

tangled only by briars

and disrupted only by birdsong

there is a peace, wanting to be claimed