Burn Lake

As the flame danced with the wind and the embers

Amber rekindled with the forsaken ash

The storm clouds pulled away

and another blue moon felt its shadow cast.

Night time ran into dawn.

Soft petals of raindrops fell upon the newly shaved lawn.

Finally, with the loons echo of goodnight.

Burns lake came up and out of sight.

It is a slippery slope living among the mortals

There is no right

There is no wrong

There is no place to belong.

Yet, late in the evening

Perhaps just before dawn

the symphony of earth angels mime in song.

Yet, late in the afternoon

Just before the sun turns to warm

Out on the lake you can see it…

if you do not look too long.

Out on the lake, it could be said

At any of God’s moments

At any miscues of time

There is an undeniable rhythm with the earth

An indisputable rhyme.

Backwoods

farmhouse by the side of the road

dogs loved and lost

sumac fading to rose

where have you been?

what have you been told?

a warm rain dribbles on my mountain pained skin

alerting me…simplicity must come around again

there has been no shame to the backroads, traveled from within

lost in the wandering towards autumn’s color

reminds me of the hot touch of sun on cotton

have I traveled so far that there maybe a rejection of nature’s law

or, is there possibility that I can wait until spring’s thaw?

Do You Hear…What I Hear

I hear the angels of the golden age sing

I hear it and I know you do too

Raven-ly delicate Blue Jays, clear and virginal, as they sing

Morning Doves in the clasp of joy

Gray squirrels cattle calling for autumn’s deliverance

This is a bell that tolls for only me

and…

This is the bell that rings for those unlike me

This is a clamour from the untamed

This is where the earth will remain

an Invitation

Crickets and alike hear my random thoughts

Unmasked in the under brush…there is no need for abandonement…

Just a lyrical understanding of loss

Salamander, squirrel, evergreen and barren oak know of cost

Reverberation from forgotten caves

Divots into the forest of rain

Landscape reminders…we are not the same

I am only invited to release the shame

Repaired with Care

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There is relief for us…

Somewhere in the forest of our dreams.

A broken down…

Repair with despair.

Wooden, spindled, chair.

Let there be no promises made.

Only hope covered in moss and unnamed flowers.

There is relief for us.

There is hope in nature.

It is in the depths of unknown.

It is no stranger.imageedit_8_7254150409