sludge spot

there's a spot under the pot

where the sun never shines

the moss is growing fast

the water never dries

a year or two or maybe three

the warp has now set in

the rot is strong it won't last long

entropy in 3-D

pine needles join the dance

a moldy tango fierce

another drop another drip

the point of no return

beneath the moss under the pot

the wood is holding still

but touch the spot so full of rot 

it crumbles instantly

beware the dark and damp

where no light enters in

things left too long decay

compost in formation

before that moment passes by

move the pot let it dry

windchime

hang me where the summer breeze

plays soft and low upon my skin

or in the northeast corner cool

where winter winters blow hard

I'll sing out loud or softly mourn

dancing to fickle touch

the wind's my love he never stays

but comes and goes without a word

come stormy gales or zephyrs fair

he has no voice so I must be

his song for all to hear

the turning time

there's an aspen on my street

unusual at these heights

so near the sea

it stands tall and proud

a stranger in a strange land

of maples and ginkgo and dogwoods

all summer i watch the breeze

dance gaily through the leaves

singing a sighing song

of rocky mountains far away

still green and lush they wave

while distant cousins grow pale

and drift down in silent splendor

to the frozen ground

each year i think i'll watch

as green turns into gold

see the sap draw back the life

bury deep the hope of spring

year after year i wake

one day at the turning time

to a sudden flame of yellow 

as if overnight the leaves changed

but this year it's different

the tips away up high

begin the glowing journey

i see the progression coming

as winter soon draws nigh

risk

I sit beneath the soft moonlight

I cannot see so far

yet what I see is clear as dusk

and heavy as a scar

another dream has turned to rust

I shudder at the chill

to think of what there might have been

if I had climbed that hill

the walls around my dead-end way

seem silent as the grave

until I glimpse another’s path

and how I might behave

in daylight’s green unhealthy hue

life seems to be unfair

until I wake beneath the glow

find sober thoughts are there

so struggle on I know I must

leave envy to the rear

alone or not one path I’m given

to shine reflected here

the risk is great each passing hour

to love to leave to stay

a simple word a gesture strong

and fears could melt away

but moments pass and silence stays

perhaps it’s for the best

no one can know what each day brings

beneath this moon I’ll rest

unless someday the question comes

I’ll know then what to do

until my heart has found a home

to one thing I’ll stay true

it's fall again

will you come with me past the old oak tree

where the shivering aspen stand

when the frosty breeze stirs up the leaves

we can walk together hand in hand

as the shadows grow there are things you know

that I long to hear spoken softly

let the dying day whisk your cares away

give your heart to me so freely

it's the time of year when the end is near

and your soul feels the weight of time

with a dying grace and a warm embrace

we can find the sad sublime

the leaves that fall from the trees so tall

tell of glories that are past

of long summer days far from winter's gaze

and the shadows that it casts

I wonder still when I feel the chill

how my heart can thrill with pain

thinking of your smile that you shared awhile

though you never come again

in this season's change with its weather range

my emotions ebb and flow

and though lonely now I find hope somehow

something buried deep will grow

walk with me

sometimes the way is damp

although the stream is dry

and when I hope for some kind word

the people pass me by

the trees that shade the sun

breathe chillness in the air

and though I long for warmer days

fall's coming everywhere

when down the path I ran

you lagged a ways behind

but when I slowed you sped ahead

what did you have in mind

the faces through the years

some stay while others go 

if winter's frost were tempered down

they could relax I know

the road can stretch for miles

so lonely is the way

my steps don't match the friends I've had

and I've no place to stay

but in the stillness deep

the whisper still can come

the narrow path is worth the risk

the ending lies at home

blue day sunshine

it's summer now

the bee proclaims

as lazily he flits

from blade of grass

to flower bright

and all the bluebirds sing

the robin finds

a tasty worm

as tender berries ripen

the hummingbird

sips nectar sweet

with wings as fast as lightning

I drink it in

the long warm days

that whisper endless idylls

the nights of dreams

what-might-have-beens

that fade away by morning

but in the wind 

I sense a note

this moment cannot last

the days grow short

midsummer's past

and winter's round the corner

why is it so

in joyful times

my heart a shadow feels

though sunlight's strong

and breezes sweet

I cannot rest for long

it's summer now

the bee proclaims

yet in my eyes is fall

the rain that comes

the winter brings

and all the birds are gone

early blooms

each petal like a drop of blood 

floats gently on the surface 

rocking to a silent song 

in water’s soft embrace 

the edges brown as moments pass 

death steals the bright away 

and though the sun shines bravely on 

the sky begins to grey 

alighting on one rusting drop

a bumblebee reposes

until the weight tips the scales 

and the water overflows it

one by one through time and chance 

the liquid conquers all

‘til all that stays are memories 

of a blossom that did fall 

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 

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

June Gloom

the longest day and a year half over

a chill down my spine

like the echo of December wind

as hopes become dreams

help my unbelief

the wet blanket of marine air

dampening activity

shutting summer down

so many wishes blown out in joy

grumbling gratitude

rose petals and cottonwood down

a carpet of dying comfort

plentiful food tipping the scale

as guilt rides in on the insulin rush

my thoughts multiply

July crashes in with pyrotechnics

the beginning of the end in denial

distracted by a kaleidoscope of colour

until the gloom of June fades

like a cloud of witnesses

gazing into a blue sky of forgetfulness 

the light intoxicates with clarity

an inexorable change like the grim reaper

rides on the smell of woodsmoke

remember me

relentless

I sat in a field and gazed at the sky

watching two birds fly way up high

the small bird dove again and again

fighting a battle he could not win

the hawk barely flinched and soared

the little one’s cries he clearly ignored

I marvelled at the relentless attack

as David flew at Goliath’s back

what desperation could there be

to make him try endlessly

with courage beyond his small size

he rent the heavens with his tries

did somewhere far below the blue

lie a nest with eggs of rosy hue

was this a fight of life or death

protecting those without a breath

risking all against a foe

with every ounce to make him go

while hidden in their little nest

the unborn chicks stayed at rest

just before his strength gave way

two starlings came to join the fray

then for a moment David was gone

somewhere to rest but not for long

with fresh zeal he fought once more

as Goliath continued to soar

the hiker's blessing

may you find a trail where only briars were before

may it lead you down a hill through tall trees

may the trees have sun-dappled leaves of golden green

may a bend in the path bring you to a stream

may the stream sing joyful songs over large rocks

may you rest awhile in peace drinking in the scene

may you feel your sore muscles as you rise to walk

may strength bind up your limbs and give you a second wind 

may you climb up higher than the leafy trees where pines grow

may your steps take you past the strong sentinels still higher

may the view take your breath away as you survey peaks

may each peak be kissed with snow as it rises from green slopes

may the breath fill your lungs until they burst with life

may the wind lift your arms as if you could take wings and fly

may the winding trail lead slowly home to a warm shower

may sleep wrap you in a refreshing embrace until dawn

may another day you wake to find a new trail again