whirling

sometimes when the light is just right
you can feel the spin of the earth
for a moment not longer you gaze above
and the clouds are standing still
while you slide towards the sea for an instant
it's an upside down world
everything and nothing matters more
the world goes strangely soft
the wind in the trees is only the breeze
of time hurtling past
as your space goes topsy turvy
you're amazed to be standing
with all the strength you can muster
you reach out a hand
hoping you're not alone in this fright
that someone feels this too
when the moment is past and you look up
the clouds are floating by
all that remains of your vertigo
are some leaves in your hair

Falling Leaves

"Are you evergreen or deciduous?"
the old man asked the scribe.
"Do your needles point up to the heavens,
or your leaves on winds ride?
Are you faithful in the summer sunshine
but fickle in winter's glare?
Or do you proudly wave green arms on high
when the world is cold and bare?
It matters but a little in the spring
if your buds are fresh and full;
much better you stay strong under snowfall,
alive despite death's pull."
He gently tapped his wrinkled forehead
and sadly winked his eye.
"Perhaps you think I'm foolish for these words--
no, pause before you deny--
but I've seen a few more seasons here below,
made sense of what is true:
In lonely or laughter, plenty or pain,
the one factor still is you."
I made as if to hazard a reply
but the old man shook his head.
"Don't speak, just think and wait a little while--
there're darker days ahead."
And with that he passed on from my sight
to what I could not tell.
I turned my collar up in the evening breeze
and watched as autumn fell.

foggy night

around the corner past the bend
and just beside a little glen
the air grows thick this autumn night
blurring the strongest headlight
when traffic on the highway slows
even the reckless caution grows
feeling mist enfold the space
somber herald of winter's face
the blurring view echoes seas
fashioning ghosts among trees
a netherworld of forgotten dreams
where all is not what it seems
where faeries, deer and danger play
and what may come one cannot say
a moment in a normal drive
so suddenly you feel alive
is this the end with hope or dread
it seemed so sure what is ahead
but now the clear air turns opaque
the surety begins to break
until the fog is gone from sight
and all is still in deep starlight
the shaken mind clears at last
forgetting what has just passed
speeding home forgetfully
afraid to dwell on what could be
around the corner past the bend
and just beside a little glen