Poetry | Stories | Photography
The way the branches long for each other,
look at how the moon hangs in the middle.
Such a pretty night, or is it a Winter’s day?
The fog-blue sky of Winter Dreams is cold.
Disturbingly filled with love by the branches,
abandoning protocol to rub against the trees.
The expanse between heaven and earth,
whispering trees tell the clouds many secrets.
Twilight shimmers off the pond water,
and poets contemplate the beauty of the sky.
Talking to the trees hoping they’ll respond,
I think of the many ways to describe you.
A chalice full of forest air
beneath Petrichor scents
Waiting for the right time
listening for what comes
Beating the forest drums
vibrations and old energy
Waking the forest dead
calling the trees, animals
One holds the chalice high
another call to the wolves
Visions of the old dead
sap runs down the trees
Above mindless human interactions,
you think of all the black and white pictures;
there is always something to remind you.
Free from the judgement of your family,
you can sit and think without anger or sorrow;
something will always be there to remind you.
Above human interaction and the love you crave,
you find a friend to tell you stories of the forest;
you long for something there to remind you.
We all live
in many states of
becoming fragile.
On a day
like any other day,
we venture into the sun.
Her gardens,
they live well,
for they know the seasons.
Money bears
lost in our ways
as we trample the land.
Then,
a Willy Wag Tail dances for us,
and we are different.
Plush flowers of her bloom in her garden
Purple and indigo shades move in the air
Birds chirp and talk of Amore and kisses
Bees buzz and race to find the best buds
Swiftly dancing to a tune of uplifting sorrows
Sweetly moving in time to the sway of flowers
Beautifully broken souls,
beating hearts of the night.
Spirits begin to rise and fall,
the Souls burn blue so bright.
Within the midnight calm,
Forgetting in moonlight quiet.
We cherish the moonlit night,
wishing for love and kindness.
An ethereal shadow moves within the trees to find a long-forgotten clearing.
A loner follows quietly to find something forgotten within.
The shadow and the loner move towards the clearing until only the loner remains.
Moonlight and Fireflies illuminate the trees and the altar as shadows move.
The loner walks towards the altar.
Blossoms colour the landscape,
walking along to the sound of rain.
Blossoms move and drip slowly,
lost in the reverie of petal colour.
Blossoms blush colourful shades
as the raindrops
playfully touch
soft petals.
Rain and hail batter the roof,
wild winds whip the valley to and fro
as thunderous heavens release.
Grey skies dry their sorrowful eyes,
clouds feel empty and light,
and the sun peeks out to shine bright,
releasing sunshine after the storm.
C & K 