Friday, September 27, 2019

At the foot of the screaming tree...

At the foot of the screaming tree
I listen to the winds howl in harmony
an angry litany
of questions piling endlessly
like confused leaves, warm on the forest floor,
on a summery autumn day

Friday, September 13, 2019

Glowing in the Dying Sunlight


There were phantom birds
haunting the dark forest last night
very nearly there
just at the edge of my vision 
but then not

I could hear them rustle
in the shaded leaves
and catch glimpses of 
rusted iron feathers but then 
they were gone

Meanwhile 

just above my head 
glowing in the dying sunlight
a web was being woven
by a spectral spider

The woods were alive with ghosts

Thursday, September 5, 2019

Watchful



What the sycamore saw
she wouldn't say but
she left signs all along the forest floor


And seeing the corner of a
stained glass leaf
and recognizing that these 
1,000 panels 
are just one small part of one small leaf
in a woods with a million leaves
leaves me breathless
with the math of it all

Monday, September 2, 2019

Cool Comfort


A song was sung
that called the moon into the sky

The moon, in turn,
called the players into the forest

The forest, for her part,
welcomed them all within her shade

where they played in cool comfort

Friday, August 30, 2019

Satisfied

Passing an old leaf
beside the tired amber stream,
she called out to me

she called me by name.
Daniel, she said, formally,
Where are you going?

I was stupefied
I rarely talk to the leaves
and, well, that's my fault

Downstream, I reckon
lest I decide otherwise...
My mind could be changed.

The leaf said no more...
I think she was satisfied
and I'll try to be

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

A Song of Water and of History

Studying history begins - 
for me, today -
with a long look at
the water running
in no particular hurry
in the stream next to me.

It is, I realize,
the same water my grandmother drank
and boiled her snap beans in
It is the same water we crossed to escape torture
and the same water they drowned us in
before we escaped.

It is the Water that gathered all in one place
and separated the Dry Land from the Dry Land
It is the Water over which the Spirit hovered
and within which life began.

And so, I went down to the river to pray.
Down by the riverside.
Where we laid down our sword and shield
where we hung our harps and wept
bleeding history from our face
for the captors demanded we sing a song
of Zion
of Home
of Sanctuary
and there was
no
Sanctuary.

And so, studying history,
I remembered and recalled and imagined
and I built an ark
a boat bound for the promised land
over Jordan's stormy banks
beyond the muddy waters of the Ohio
across the Rio Grande

and like the stream beside me
I sang a song
a song
of Water
and of History
and of that first pair of centipedes that
crawled out of the water
and made a home for the rest of us
and waited for Paradise.

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

The Stream Called

The stream called slowly
and so convincing was she,
I nearly vanished
swept neatly away
as if I were a mem'ry
from a made up story

I am disappeared

An Unnecessary Illusion

The snow covering and ice sprinkling gave the illusion of a new world fresh, undisturbed, untouched and unpolluted. This was only an illusio...