Crossroads

At the crossroads of the

shadows of these trees and

the reflections of those trees

I find only one stream, below

Revolution, No. 1

The gray of the day

was so complete

that it bleached the woods 

of all color 

save one

and that one was nearly overwhelmed

by the grueling singularity of 

the Gray 

and that one 

bleeding

damp

snatch of color was

a Surprise and 

a Promise and

all the Hope I needed

It was - 

Ha! - 

a Revolution

Moon Dancer

They said that ghosts haunted those woods at night.

They said that all who entered in dark, 

never returned the same.

They said that strange sounds and heavy breathing 

ever echoed eerily.

They said the sounds of feet stomping heavily 

could be heard, always nearby

along with shrieking in the distance...

She said, 

I am a Moon Dancer and Night Howler. 

Fear me if you must.

Still

As the deer cautiously grazed

in a mid-winter's woods

he stopped

and turned his head

and listened.

Snow fell lightly upon his back

and melted away

and still, he listened.

Late falling beech leaves

silently sailed to the forest floor

and still, he listened.

Still.

Like a stone.

Still.

Like a bone-tired sleep.

Still.

Like a half-haunted spirit.

Still

like the woods in the winter

guarded by a sober God

with a wild, well-rested peace.

And a dog barked.

And the deer disappeared

leaving his path behind.

Still.

Watching...

Standing in the woods

in the rain

in the dark

of the night,

he stood there, 

watching me

watching him.

Sweet Winter Moss

If I die in February

lay me to rest

on a bed of sweet Winter Moss

and I'll be warm beneath her blanket

soon enough

Ghost-Woods

These were ghost-woods

he knew 

because he heard their whispers

and felt their footsteps

on the path just over the hill

always, just around the bend

The haunted trees

walked beside him

Breathing Fire, Shouting Hope

Looking at the day

built of equal parts, rain and gray,

and looking at the forest

bare of leaf and flower

sun and warmth

I make the mistake of

assuming a wet and barren woods

Until

I look
more closely

What I mistook for pale and brown

I discover is golden

and where I expected only whispers of death

I find angels and dragons

breathing fire and shouting Hope.

She Found She Could Sleep

She found she could sleep 

anywhere at all 

as long as she had friends, 

nearby and quiet

Such was the determined ferocity of her heart

and the stone-solid comfort of her friends.