Rising 

Rising up
Above the ridge line
Bountiful 
The last quarter 
Tilted almost 
As if a boat ready
For sail
The moon
Sang my song tonight 

She sang of brilliant days
Warm nights
Clement winters
Abundant snows
Crisp fall leaves
Echos under flip flops
Unusual this time of year

She sang of love of care
Of human kindness 
She sang with a full heart

And then I looked beyond the ridge line high up in the skies above to a night
Filled to the point of overflow with
Stars

I stood in the middle of the deep woods
In the warm November glow
Listening to the darkness and the light
Hearing her song

She sings of hope
And brilliant lights
She sings of joy
Unabashed 
She sings my song the moon tonight






Hard Frost 

Thick layers of leaves 
Soft under foot
Echo thru the full moon night

Bright
Nineteen degrees Fahrenheit 
Reminders of January’s wolf moon

Howl 
At the blue moon 
Quintessential 
Samhain I see

The soul braces
mountain winter
 Is on the way

Something settles in the heart
A kind of slowing down 
that will carry the depths
thru the darkness and nights

Winter’s bite will last 
well into March
hardened ground might thaw once
Between now and then

But mostly the sweet glacial frost 
will
Fill the cracks

Until the first bulbs break ground

Here it might be 
early 
May

Me Thinks the Lady might exaggerate?  

Okay fine we will give you 
April snow drops 

But until then dear heart

Brace yourself 
and bask 
in the absolute.

Profound 
Mountain Winter 
in all its glory

A life lived best, 
nested 
by candle light






October 31, 2020

-



November 12, 2020


Glimpses into the night


Treasures come in many forms
Crystals appear all the more
Relevant today 

Tiny good night moon tea
Celadon crackle flower pot
A plant’s new home

A memorial on a great
Grandmaman’s gift-box

Copper glazed 
raku vase
Fire 
at the base 
Mount Shasta 
May be

Tiny wooden hearts
Miniature art works
A silver thimble and 
sea shell or two 

Each object holds 
Memory
Like tiny movies
Pictures unfurl 
and fill 
the night’s darkness 
with a little 
Rose 
and a sunflower too

It is

a quiet kind of
feeling, not yet joy
not yet glee 
but an anticipatory 
hope for peace.