poetry & things



Mourning – you flew over indigo waters,


Stealthy stalker you walked the shallows

billing silvery minnows

On rust red stilts, you’re built

to move in watery fields

Eyes piercing depths of algae blooms

rippled, your swaying seaweed room

Silent hunter,

feathery plumed

Haiku for two

She loved the pale moon

he traveled beneath night’s sky

woven by starlight

Fool Moon 2

She loved the moon

long awaited ripeness full

Stood gazing

out the window

Then came a fool

to close the shades

his senses dull

blinded dark

her world

Endless as stars

Your eyes of clear water oceans, endless as stars

and seas I’ve crossed – a perfect tide gathered me whole

healing waters washed our days, birds of fluted music played

Breathing in

the rhythm of wind

we float, suspended as the stars

surrendering to the hypnotic glow of moon

We who lay

our troubled hours

soft on maiden ferns

never a lesson, but

for love’s sake

shall we ever need

to learn

early morning snowflakes

Buoyant snowflakes sideways crashed

dripping down grey window glass,

stinging winds blew harsh – the lash

of winter.

High in pines, do they shiver,

nesting birds deeply hidden?


do they warmly slumber,

with downy feathers, nestled under,

night’s darkest cold, before

the light of dawn?

Yesterday’s child

There were birds, and yesterday’s flowers,

the children laughing, never noticed fall retreating

or when winter began, forest faeries sprinkled snowflakes,

sparkling to cover the land, with magic until the Spring again,

when all their days were deep in lilies, silken petals

held dear in tiny hands, and very soon

Summer berries, reddest cherries

were laden sweetly, solely

just for them.

Winter shades

Lily white the mountains disappearing into sky,

silence of snow, growing ever deep the day and fades away,

I cannot tell where cloud meets dell, on such a winter’s eve.

Night will glow in moon tones, cold the foggy grey,

stars will shine for another, some other world away.

Dark and light, void of color, a palette

in winter shades.

Unknown poet

It was as if they wrote only to set us free,

never thinking twice about the landing or flight,

plowing dirt fields, with scores of prose, in sorrow and delight.

In a room of sun, where seasons come

with snow and rain, and none will ever be the same,

long after the reading, and none will ever know the poet’s name

or why the words have opened wide

their buried hearts

to grieving.

Today – goodbye forever

Today – it came suddenly, like rain it came in sheets, stormy without warning

it left nothing to repair, no way to undo the longing, swift we fell, fumbling

as you flew far, forever and gone

with no one to find you

again at your home

Somehow I felt you smiling or knew you’d be laughing,

dancing in daisies, barefoot and singing Sinatra

on the other side, sweetly

by now

I lost my Father today, this just popped into my head. I hope to write something more poignant and meaningful about this loss in the coming days. A very sad day indeed my friends,


Oak tree

In childhood days of dream, with grassy greens,

and swings we soared the warmest breeze,

in blue skies of laughter.

Under a canopy of wonder,

we laid under, O’ the hours of summer slumber,

the lazy slow of watching meadow flowers grow.

Spring it sings in budding greens and seeds

with rain and sun, the days you’ve grown

acorns planted for rebirth

I press my hands to your trunk

and feel myself divinely rooted to this earth.

Morning at Lithia Park

The road unpaved, waved in winding red

high pines unfettered, buried feet under needles – strawed

Warmth of sap, fragrant, piney bled

Lithia springs ring clear, a tumbled water song

Owl tree softly spoke

to newborn lily fawn, caressed by mourning cloak

Sun begins to edge the hills

wings rise, and flies the morning fog

Fritillaria bends the light, leaning into

daybreak’s mantra song

* Mourning cloak (Nymphalis antiopa) – common butterfly, found in many parts of the world

Little Spruce

green forest child

you grow in sponge drenched soils

drawing me in – an epiphyte longing

sunlight piercing raindrops

of lettuce lichens drinking

mosses soaked, greening

softly underfoot

Language of birds

Far away

it must have been another world or looked a different planet,

the earth red as fire all the mountains wide, dawn of painted skies

banyan trees caressed the landscape, we rested under, dreaming

words echoed through vast rock walls

that seemingly had no end

drifting up and out the canyon, mingling with clouds

to fly away with birds, the words are floating in the air

connecting all the world

in the birdsong

that we hear

Boneyard road

In that place where skies go swift and black

storms steal your silk and shiny petals

fading into yellow.

When words reign cold as winter rivers

running dark toward the shadows

strange roads, desert bones

can leave you deathly hollow.

What the heart knows

Soul you speak to me, calling from far off planes

voice of wisdom, your power swirls round me

gentle as petals, you lift me from the fire

all ignorance forgiven

leaving only and indelible burning

of love in the heart


There is no river winding, trickles splash, vanish

silty waters stone cold, gone

glacial icy blues fading fast

recede deep into

our past

soon recalling


not even our


Three Flickers

Three flickers outside my window, smiling – I searched for meaning,

I wished forever joy could stay,

but one, two, three, they flew away

and with them took the fading sun

with clouds and rain soon falling down

now waits tomorrow, with shadows and sun

with joy and sorrow, the birds will come

Some roads

Certain roads will beckon, haunted in their calling

enticing dreams, caress your head in pillows soft,

surreal, they wield black magic

leaving you stranded on roads unimagined, to unravel

dragging home, long through

dirt and gravel

Drink sweet the night

When evening comes, the end of day

drink sweet the honey roses

and toast we two, day’s farewell

the sun to slip away

Til’ night appears fast before

a pearly blackened sea

Shells will sing

of warming winds

whistling through the hollows

A song of stars sparkling loud

humming skies of

moonlit ocean

December’s glow

My wintery windows, glow in many colored lights,

icy fog, distorts yellows, reds and blues

holly boughs and berries, pines of greenest hues

It is early, much too early

for morning birds still sleeping

snow will fall in swirling winds

from heavy branches weeping

Silver moon, too I see you fade

when foggy clouds go creeping

stars will follow and fade away

when comes the sun over

frosty rooftops peeking

To be a bird

Bright chartreuse edged, magenta flowers, with lavender

just beyond in the bee fields of summer, thousands of seeds, days spilling over

planted in early autumn rains, to wait again, dotted in red rows of poppies.

Today no clouds will come

only purple mountains glow, before the sun

beyond these fragrant hills, I wander

watching hawks and sparrows

til the golden day slips away

and I am lost between the space

of night and day, and lose all trivial words

and think how glorious

to be a bird

The madness of man (Fukushima)

No more to swim in your bluest seas, farewell my dear Pacific,

long did you sustain a myriad of lives, true unimaginable bounty,

you gave all for free and still we stole your life away.

Goodbye salty sea air, no more to breathe your sweetness.

Soon a plume shall come, raining poison death upon us,

watch for wicked winds of radiation,

to silent creep, and deadly seep into

soil and irrigation, you mustn’t eat

of tainted wheat, now flee thee to

south of the equator.

Thanksgiving (haiku)

To the trees, to sun

to birds and the ways of love

to breath – I thank you


Looking to the skies, sifting stars and lies – you dream,

someone waiting at the gate, watching very late the night

Talking to trees, swirling circles breeze, windy autumn

leaves you to fall, sailing golden ships

red and yellow slips, arduous trips will take you

Whispers shake the soul, only you will know

drums of heartbeats

that awake you

Grey woods

Grey woods, morning mist

hangs upon the trees, leaves decay, sway

falling to the ground

Quiet – this world, but the sound of rain

washing wet the berry vines, droplets

falling to the ground

Sparrows flit among sheltered branches,

nest’s to repair, twine and twigs

falling to the ground


Someone will be there, suddenly so near – your heart

listen to the wind, sweet music of your days together

still you have to go, leaving will be slow

agony awaits, your days will break

days will break – you


Barren wind

It came hollow as carved bone and cold

strange as moon glow shrouded in mists of fog

it blew breathless, deep as darkest space unnamed

with towering waves it came

crashing silent upon the earth and sea

Sun stars melted.

Who will light candles for them?

For whales, seals and the

fallen humans?

in response to Fukushima and the ongoing nuclear assault occurring on earth 🙁

and still they want more, total insanity.

The human field

And so they came to grow and grow, some flourished wild – under days of golden suns,

some never planted, only blew lonely across the fields of splitting winds

til a drifting life can no longer hold the certain breath of death

swallowed once again by the welcoming earth

a wildfire ignites, burning only for rebirth

life springs anew born of ash and fire.


Stone cold, the blackening sky, stole our field of flowers,

soon seeds of dandelions washed away

in watercolor charcoal skies

gone grey.


all the brightest colors

a mourning



Through wooded fog

fades the day, abandoned to the grey,

lost road, lost home – belonging to no one

Pictures found upon a mantle, dust and charcoal,

photos framed in rusty metal,

sepia shadows, a broken mirror

Collections of rocks and bones,

letters and sealing wax,

china cups, stained and cracked

Musty pages of paperbacks,

remnants of a life long ago.

Memories, pressed flowers of fading bells,

little relics, loved

so well

Not too pretty (haiku)

Lies, sins, pretty grins

a face to dance you away

spins your days so grey

Deeper wood

Vine maples branch,

dappled paths lit green

Forest fronds reach for skies unseen

In deeper wood comes black of day

red cedar’s fallen to decay

Oxalis spring – softly flowered white

sway and lean into the light

Wild berries burst, upon a mossy floor

drinking sweet, red wine poured

mouse and bird drunk with delight

cozy sleep their woodland night


Pale white or maybe slightly gray, blue

looking through – little holes, grains of sand, blowing through

tossed about this stormy day, ocean spray

you can’t hold, lapping waves.

One day whispers will caress

your ears, salt and tears

You may break or drift, you can never tell

storms of love, pearls

and shells.

In a dream

In a dream, somewhere in other countries, never mapped

a man was speaking, though I did not understand, there was never any plan

and I listened to the wind and rain upon the trees.

With no church bells to ring, and birds were the chorus

I came upon a silent steeple in the forest, standing on it’s own,

became a wild bird’s home, wrapped in thorny vines

a crown to stain, with berries, bled upon my hands.

Mary was there too, she was looking through

a broken window pane, calling out my name

and too, all the forest called, bathing me in love.

Then with the birds I flew, heavenly into

a deeper dream, til I awoke at dawn,

to fragrant flowers on the lawn

remembering such heaven.

Fly from darkness

The bridge, well worn, with slipping wood, crossing over

with secrets hidden, nearly fully under,

rainy days so long.

Her head – a flutter of lily moths, emerging, searching for air,

from a stifling room she fled, dark the forest bled

whispers, wings of white clouds through trees

swirl, drifting amidst dancing fields

on this day, learning

to be free.

Chaparral (haiku)

Sweet desert fragrance

perfume lingers in my mind

long after the rain

At the day’s end

Windows never see me, looking through

stairways never lead me to

all the places outside

at the day’s end

looking in

Blue day of sun rays will shine

stars beam, yellow moon streams

make drowsy eyes dream


glide through fragrant cedar trees

starlit, past the silence

to a place of dream


I could no longer see the sky, stars all blackly veiled, senses numbed

in the gathering storm, a smokey room void of living breath

choked the night air, gasping

consternation of a dark wilderness

a sad vanishing note, played


Trappings of time

It’s like an Arctic wind, a bitter cold hovering

piercing, icy lunged we breathe the hollows in

A dense fog surrounding time, trapping

moments like hours, waiting the days like years

spilling over one another, waiting like a flower

to open in the sun.

Swallowed by time

I came to know that all is borrowed,

even time

One day I bought a property, thinking it mine

as if I could somehow claim it – that which is truly wild,

perhaps appears temporarily tamed

shall one day be reclaimed,

swallowed by time

no memory,

no name


Winds cannot whittle away this morning, blowing through my waking window

sweet, they only sing me from sleep and bring to me, birds I’ve heard in other dreamy dawns.

Joyful, thinking of friends to meet, along the streets or on soft summer lawns,

watching – like a magic trick, waiting for surprise,

now orange, pink, red upon my bed,

a world of dazzling skies!

Scented skies

She said it was wisteria, florets draped

framing her windows

vines climbed overreaching the rooftop

swallows flew by, just before night skies

twilight flashed orange, pink in lavender blues

fading into black

a vision soon of sparkling

starry moon

jasmine flowers to float upon

evening’s scented pond

Path of violets

In sunshine or in shadow how rich the loamy soil

light of earth, dream of rebirth greening

lilac buds and bluebells ring

magenta hills, aubretia spring

of burning fire

A mossy path of violets, soft my feet to wander

muscari blue the garden dew

birds to drink of leafy puddles

bluest skies go grey, drifts so swift a rain cloud by

to water quick the daffodil, silk umbrellas yellow

and comes alas the greening grass

robins hopping, weaving

Spring unfurls in flowery births

tiny violets upon the earth


She was speaking

butterflies floated from her lips

fragile wings

caressed your mind

together, entwined

you flew

fragrant petals were her pillow

a scented garden filled your room

you were dreaming,

roses soft, laid

upon your bed

a morning of golden sun

compassion, salvation

of sacred dawn

they were barren

void of masks

becoming utterly



There are moments, sacred places

where the heart dwells beyond words, no language

only silence, brilliance of clarity shines through the vastness of time

connection to the divine, so soon the mind

will flicker and change, thoughts blow away

nothing will remain

Crow medicine

Dark, brooding storm swirling overhead

clouds, charcoal black looming

dagger piercing eyes in greyest skies

feathers fly in pelting rains

be not afraid, ’tis but

a losing game

The deeper dream

I could only see with dreaming eyes a place so vast within

impossible waters to cross, if only to fly to other side

blue water to turn to ice, and full of joy

I could go skating by, twirling to the sky

when all the meadow flowers would fully bloom

and turn to starry showers

of petals raining

in my room

Summer willows

Oh green I sing, of wings and birds across blue morning sky

with summer sounds, willows round the floating pond

dipping gently by.

Warm winds play music soft

through leaves and reeds, they sing

gathering in the transient breeze.

Under leafy trees of sunlight and shadows

all the day I rest my head

breathe sweet the flowering fields

never shall I leave this place

nor want for any sweeter heaven.

Summer storm

The hills tumbling, daisy stemmed, a floating sea of wild flowers,

white petaled, beaches and waves in rolling summer meadows.

Clouds come, caressing long summer grasses,

blowing sweetly fields, scented warm

before the rain

Thistle crowned flowers cracked, a tiny finch, splitting seeds

swift before the storm, soon flies afar to leafy trees

awaits again the golden summer

of the sun

Summer (reflection on days)

Over the rooftops, windows and treetops – came sun

summer magenta, morning of skies will come.

Singing in silvery shadows, hummingbird drinking in penstemons

a day dappled in sun and sun, til evening late in brightest moon to light this earthly dome.

All the yesterdays sailing on, beyond the dark and stars.

How fast and far to roam, all the days

that come and come.

Ode to 50,000 Bees killed in Oregon

Today all the linden trees shrouded in black, no flowers only death, so quiet crept

killing summer bees, that can no longer sing – of honey flowers afield

death crying at the door, their silence praying to be heard

and still unthinking man poisons our fragile world

Northern summer

Pillow, soft nest of dreams, she slept upon

gorgeous birds embroidered flew

across lakes, blue water fields

swells of seas break, calling swans home

willowy winds sigh, whispers, feathers fly

willow tree shadows alight her slumbering walls

as northern summer fades to Fall

this is an older poem. revised

Early in the morning

So early in the morning, bluest skies of birdsong

they sang like laughter, singing for summer, the dawn

flying to heaven, making their way toward home

Awakened from dreaming, wings unfolding, reach out for love

early in the morning with the sun.

Waiting, gazing into a silent green lily pond

no words, no secrets, only seeking reflection deep within

early in the morning with the sun.


Days were like honey, even sweeter than golden suns

you were laughing in rainbows – colorfully ever undone

dancing in meadows, and mornings

to bloom again

Your eyes of silver spun light, did shine

flashes of soul, glowing pieces of amber nights

Voices of angels sang you to sleep in peace

Remembering all the places you’ve ever felt love

with letters in boxes you’ve looked upon

Days are just pages, they burn into ashes that blow in the wind

all of these days, where do they

begin and end?


I cannot remember, only I can feel the empty chill of steel

sometimes, colored ghosts of autumn whisper in the shadows

that I follow, to take me far from home

Today with sun or clouds and all the bluest skies

a truth revealed, and I awakened to a madness of lakes and rivers,

spilling over – to flood, a place


So swift the night will come, soon to leave this home

darkness winds a long road on

and still the sun will come


From the high cliffs a rugged landscape swept, dropping to the sea

windy clouds, gray rain soaking tiny flowers, waiting for the sun

smokey town so far off, walking farther on

A weathered, rocky place high above this world, climbs a path to stars

with twinkling eyes of sky, where night collides with sea

a traveler, seeking refuge from the shallows

rests her head, soft upon a grassy pillow

A warm wind to caress, sails away the day

drifts quietly her dreams – slipping underwater

where seaweed clings, to pearly rings of sleepy siren’s bells

in echoing shells no darkness dwells

in the heart of forgiveness

The sparkling woods (children’s)

When after stars burn out, with glowing dust falling far to earth

colored sparks and charges mingle in the trees

forest faeries come to gather tiny stars

from green summer leaves

With jars of light, they taking flight

little lanterns flitting through the woods

sprinkling starry heavens

Before the dawn they’ve

traveled long, blanketing the forest

now hide from sight they must

their wooded world born anew

sparkling with stardust

The hills at Eagle river

In summer, a valley so green, thick in veridian

a pond looking on, sits atop the world – waiting for no one

The sun through an open window, so soon to be gone

hills above, some days ago

covered in whitest snow

Summer oaks

A stand of oaks, ringing round in summer leaves of grassy greens

twisty branches quivering light in wind’s of dusky breeze

Beyond this sky of crimson day, far awaits a starry field to bloom

and melts the sun into black

swift before the moon

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