It’s been while since I have posted and I thought I would begin with a poem (below the picture) I wrote a couple months ago. It is full of outdoor and woodsy imagery, which I thought aligns nicely with my purpose in maintaining my blog. Enjoy!
When Timber Makes One Still
You asked me once if I thought you were a catch.
The smile across your face deceived me to believe
I was the fisherman who had hauled in his most
The sea, that uneasy beast, is refuge to those who
are wary of tattered ropes and surface dwelling giants.
The sun twists around silent branches to the mourning
dove nestled in the white pine’s needles.
Amongst the dawn’s air, cries of sadness, cooing for lost
companions echoes through the woods.
Still – the forest is still. Not one remains to answer the
last dove on winter’s first morn.
Everyday I rise with aspirations to see God’s earthly
angels flutter and flit in the timber outside my window;
to hear the melody of the gold finch and the rhythmic
drumming of a woodpecker.
Yet each day comes and each day goes, and still there is
not a bird at my feeder.
In my sleep, visions of a man unknown to time, whose
beard grows stiff with the descending frost.
Whiskey breath warmed by the pith of
trees born ages ago.
Their crackle accompanying the solitary harmonica’s
tune he plays to God – only the coyotes reply.