strings of lights

I come around a corner 

and see a house aglow 

the festive lights of gold and green 

a sudden joy bestow

Though dark may be the night 

and lost may seem the cause 

when all my plans lie in the dust 

demolished by their flaws 

A single flame can burn 

and keep despair at bay 

dispelling night with joyful light 

and speed me on my way 

I smile this time of year 

though clipped my wings may be 

the colours cheer my way so drear

and shine when I can’t see 

the journey’s end

From chilly grey Pacific waters the sand dollar emerged five weeks ago. Under sunny skies north of the 45th parallel it began its journey, riding long miles as summer gave way to autumn. It rode alongside rivers like the Snake cascading west, destined to join the vast sea it once called home, until it crested the great continental divide and saw the mighty Missouri and Mississippi flowing with others towards the sunrise. From dramatic rock outcroppings to endless rolling plains, it traversed the diverse land called United. Delving hundreds of feet underground it experienced the moist tunnels of the world’s longest cave system. Further on it climbed high in the Smokies and saw mile after mile of rolling green and blue mountains, so different from the snowcapped volcanic peaks near its coastal home. On a balmy October morning it finally embraced brilliant warm aqua waves, being swept out to the other shining sea in one final climactic moment—the poetic end of the journey of an imperfect sand dollar.

the mountains are calling

sometimes a picture cannot begin 

to capture the horizon 

to wrap a frame around the sky

and trap the colour of life 

growing green and dying golden 

the misty ridges from blue to distant grey

rippling into the future like waves upon the sea

warm dappled rays dancing on the skin 

the wind making tympanic music all around 

rocky trails lead to hidden vistas

with air so clear it makes the heart ache 

just to be is enough 

let go of all the questions that remain 

open wide arms outstretched in gratitude 

today the gift of breath

the moment ripe for second chances 

dark places

home is dark 

tons of blue green waters

pressing the disk into sands

that never see the light of day 

but this is darkness 

subterranean 

no home for a sand dollar 

silence unbroken 

far from joyful dolphins 

or somber whales 

still creatures live here 

friendly with the night 

alien to a pilgrim 

only passing through 

a cave that goes on and on

larger than any on earth 

full of rooms forgotten and found 

once the abode of many waters 

running to the sea

now only condensation remains 

in mammoth caverns 

under tons of loamy dirt

no home for light 

miles to go

the miles roll into the thousands 

as the asphalt ribbon ebbs and flows

waving fields of grass bend and bow

before the wind with few trees to break 

silence lives in the middle of nowhere 

heavy as the billowing clouds at dusk 

testimony to words unspoken 

a life unlived in exchange for endless sky

the promise of no walls to constrict 

compensation for no arms to enfold

the plains keeps their secrets well

only a few know the allure and reward

of horizons that never disappoint

satisfaction in relentless labour 

oblivion to restless millions captured 

by the concrete prisons that are never still

stillness is a gateway to eternal peace 

a glimpse of something yet to come 

as the miles roll into the thousands 

the Snake

winding never still it flows

from eastern mountain valleys 

through canyons depths 

unparalleled in all the world 

it curves and twists and springs

serpentine as its namesake 

making its home with determination 

through unforgiving terrain 

until it dives holding nothing back 

into the vast seas of endless waters 

shedding the shores like skin

never to return the same way

Ain’t it grand!

Blue mountains, Wallowa peaks! The late summer sunshine beats down on lazy streets in the small town with an aspiring name. La Grande. The quaint scenic main street showcases iconic brick buildings and historic marquees, while side streets host a 100 year old fire station and stately train station, which Amtrak stopped serving ages ago. The sand dollar lingers at the mural on Fir Street, testimony to the real grandiosity of the location of the city: a semi-encircling vista of rising mountains lush with evergreens.

from sea to shining sea

Yesterday the Pacific sea left a sand dollar, not quite round, resting on the sands of the Oregon coast. Here begins its journey, where golden beaches lapped by ice-blue waters give way to towering tree-lined cliffs. In the coming forty days it will traverse the expansive nation from state to state, the journey of an imperfect sand dollar. What adventures will it find along the way before it comes to rest on the shores of the Atlantic? The empty shell of a life that’s past, will it find a new existence in faces full of memories? All the while its simple beauty may bring a smile to hearts far and near.

The journey begins…

down the trail

the shadows are deep on the path ahead 

no voices are heard in the deep midday gloom 

but I press on for the trail must be traveled 

the narrow steps forward between me and home 

I hear not a sound save the hum of a fly and 

the scent of pine needles tickles my nose 

I drink in the forest enjoying the cool 

of the tall prickly sentinels that hush 

the brash sunshine before me behind me 

the way twists and turns and trees without number 

march mile upon mile as mind mind flits far 

I shiver a moment and sidestep some scat 

wondering now how solo I am really 

could the trunks become glass how near 

would I see that cougar or that bear observing 

my way then a breeze comes again just a sigh 

like an echo I remember the shadows 

so like the veil and could all fade away 

alone I would never be

one plus zero doesn't equal two

i hear your voice clearly

you're just within reach

your words proclaim strongly

the message you preach

but when the door closes

and i'm left here alone

your words become empty

as still as the phone

you never put flesh 

to your friendly embraces

true though they may be

to other chosen faces

the hardest of sayings

are the ones left unspoken

like the promise of water

where the well pump is broken

how am i to believe

all this life's meant to be

when alone i can never

grasp the one thing i need

surrender january 2022

You're asking for it back

what You gave me i give You

i'm living on borrowed time

after all i've seen and had

merely tools and opportunities

to bring an exponential increase

so why am i tempted to bury it

as if the treasure could slip away

when in fact it isn't mine to guard

merely steward, tend and offer

what little is in my care

voices whisper You are hard

demanding what my efforts bring

i'm looking at what i do not have

finding darkness in losing this

what isn't even mine at all

in anguish struggling to believe

i swallow past the lump

and as air fills my lungs i remember

my very breath belongs to You

a kaleidoscope of days with grace

moment after moment You

providing protecting promising

in every painful surrender

You've been there abundant

growing this stubborn child

so i'm giving it back

with only a hint of reluctance

knowing You know best

how to spend my borrowed time