Sprung

Clover troves that Grow over night spring Delight such vibrant green Unseen since the fall of Summer The trees it seems have Found their leaves youngBuds not weary yet of The waking worldA new start on oldBranches Cherry blossoms billow On the breeze carried farTo distant yards their petalsLost so far from homeResting in this …

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Beaver Dam Creek

I could always find the damn creek but never any beavers

Springtime Flowers

Perhaps best to admire, from a distance,the petals on your face. The ayre, it seems, conspiresto steal my breathaway.

3/29/21

I’m fleeting, dropfrom Mother, caught by the breezeand carried far, far away.Dogwood Blossoms

The View across the Valley

Wreathed in mist Her mountain tops So blue against the setting Sun, arboreal leaves hidden By the dappled shade That shifts across The valley slopes Shimmering under Its wilting gaze In the final hours Of the day

Scenic Overlook

Mother made me To cry bitter tears Over her mountains Her valleys Her serenity

Mountain Bones

The mountain stones run deep And cold, so old Like Jörmungandr’s bonesWaiting to rise And devour the world When their day comes

A Night in the Woods

They’ve come and gone Having spent their moment Huddled amongst the trees Just enough to slate Their memories but I remain to claim My time around the fire Gathering heat and finally Sleep hanging in the woods Until at light I make my flight Back to my house and home

Campout

The brook babbles And the fire flares along Singing the song Of solitude found In the wood