Tag: #nature

What Moses Must Have Felt When Looking Upon God’s Back

Image courtesy of pinterest.com

This is an older poem that I’ve dusted off and changed around a little. The end is entirely new but in keeping with the hike in Colorado that inspired it. I was so struck by seeing the one tree leaning upon the other I did not think to whip out my phone to take a picture of the sight. In that moment of observation of the trees, it seemed a violation to do so. 


In the woods
two trees stand,
equally rooted,
firmly in the ground.

Yet, as if deciding
it a curse of solitude
to try and touch a Sky
who never reached back,
one turned 
to touch the other,
leaning its trunk
against its forest mate’s.

And so, I found them,
standing as lovers,
one resting upon the other,
limbs entwined in embrace.

I lowered my head 
out of respect mingled
with a bit of embarrassment
at glimpsing their
beautiful intimacy.


I  turned,
walked down the trail,
crunching dried leaves
beneath the fall of my heavy boots
as I continued on among the trees
in  silence and solitude.

Time of Year

It is the time
of grey skies
and dead brown grass
along the roadsides.
The time when the trees
are seen shivering,
their limbs quivering in their nakedness.
When even many of the evergreens drip down
brown, bloodied from the lethal knife wounds
of a sharpened frenzied freeze
as they sag into their deaths.
Yes, it is that time of year
when I yearn
for the green of spring,
for limbs to wrap myself within,
for a renewal of promises
I once longed to make.
The time of year
when I empty forty years
of myself.

No Lexicon

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/20204174/posts/3955628331

There exists no lexicon

For the echoes of emptiness here–

Where the azaleas bloom

Purple, pink, and white,

While dusty looking

Lavender sends up

Multiple spikes,

As roses yield up

Open, thirsting mouths

To the sky.

Though the soil here

Nourishes color and green

Growing things,

While life appears

Apparently abundant,

Although neighbors smile and wave,

The soil remains absent of truth, of meaning,

Of love—of a spirit—of a soul.

No lexicon exists for the emptiness

Echoing throughout the soil

In this place.

 

Seven Years of Visits to the Garden

image is my own

Each new year brings 
Now this garden grief
Nourished by regret

Each year, this day, here—
Standing, kneeling, sitting—I
Spend tears, words, wishes

All meaningless now,
In the barren garden grief
Flowers never bloom

Seven years gone now--
Nothing roots, though it has tried,
In the garden grief inside

An Autumnal Baptism

Image is my own

Caught in the evening downpour,
I am washed clean of summer.
Summer’s red rock, red dirt dreams
Sluiced from me with this autumnal drenching.

Morning greets me with a cool hand
Of sunshine upon my brow.
Autumn whispers of a harvest
Under skies of bluest topaz.

A clear, clean, honest reaping
In days yet to be had.

Dream No More

Image is my own

https://godoggocafe.com/2021/08/31/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-august-31-2021/

Todays prompt: “waterfall wishes”

She will never fall to earth again
After soaring among the stars,
The planets a blur. No.

No.  She will never swim 
In the deepest oceans,
Cavorting with dolphins and whales.  No.

No.  Never will her soul fly,
Brushing shoulders with angels,
Their wings touching upon her face.  No.

No.  Never these things.
Never these dangerous things again.
Never allowing illusions to gain sway.  No.

No.  She will plant her feet firmly in the ground.
Her heart cemented in her chest.  Yes.

Yes. That once mighty waterfall
Has slowed to a trickle
As there no longer exist
Any waterfall wishes.

Freedom of Wings

Image is my own






Haunting seen
In darkening clouds
Of chrysalis dreams
Where wanting,
Where desiring,
Haunt seen
Cease existing--
In this capturing
No ring 
pierced through
Butterfly wings
Dripping still
From newly emerging
Dreams not tended.


	


	
	






	
	

		
Honesty
	


	

		

Image courtesy of Wallpaperflare





wk 222 glow





sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/08/14/weekend-writing-prompt-222-glow/









to feel that glow,


let it flow within


and know in peace,


the truth held within it,


rolling slow warmth


like the sun in springtime–


that glow, that warmth—


nearly, yes nearly extinct, 


such a rarity to be found


though some try incandescent tricks


in mocking mimicry


its rarity rivals the hunt for new alabaster,


which always served a cold master


and there are no dreams glowing still


of truth to be held within the fragile


beaks of hummingbirds forever


searching the lush gardens of Babylon


for a heady nectar that does not exist
	


	
	






	
	

		
Stone
	


	

		

Image courtesy of fossilera.com










What is it that you wish to know?

How someone could live with
The edges of a life chipped away,
Breath not taken, suffocated,
Heart stilled, 	
Walking dead	
Through the days of life,
Just so onlookers believe 
The pretense they wish to see?

While I, struggling for air,
For the beating rhythms of life,
Having lived too long inside a shrinking skin,
Become petrified wood, stone,
Armored in minerals.

Only so close.
Only so close.
For I have lived years and years
Of rings and more rings,
All mineralized,
Surrounding the core
Of me.  Nothing
Could truly touch,
Know the center.
Nothing ever did
Perhaps, ever will.

It is easy to live 
As stone.








	


	
	






	
	

		
of stone and blossoms
	


	

		

Image is my own










I am unsure how this happened,
but the stone grew, encasing me,
protective and cold, a walking grave
of comfort for many years.

Now, having grown moss over
the passing of so many seasons and
used to the weight of stone I carry
into the calm of night,
blossoms burst forth from this tonnage
of comforting cold stone,
this grave of a home I have known.

I would like to twist,
turn away from
such blossoms,
yet find I cannot.
I cannot gather dust to me,
creating stone again.
Cannot piece shards together
for there are not enough left
in this remaining dust.

As I rest in this place,
I will tuck these blooms away--
Until they bear ripened fruit,
Readied for picking.

Fragrant blossoms
that they may only be
for now.