The trees bend towards me,
as the forest listens to my stories.
I spin stories for the greedy trees,
as birds circle and the animals play.
The trees beg for just one more,
so I stay a little longer waiting for rain.
Photo – Holga Jen
nature
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.
Rain
Rain falls from sootie clouds,
to kiss the desolation we made.
They saw the rain contemptuously,
then they cried when it fell no more.
The clouds call the rain to fall again,
but only for the love of the land.
Photo – Ganesh Shankar
Random Poeting
Anna walks towards the path. Just before the path stands a man rubbing a leaf.
Perplexed she asks, “What are you doing?”
Silence follows. She repeats the words.
He looks, “I’m just collecting ideas.”
“Ideas for what?”
“I write poetry…”
“You’re a #Poet! Let’s talk more.”
A below Place
a soft living hidden place,
far from materialistic eyes,
a silent another worldly place,
for natural reflective dreaming
Photo from National Geographic
Wild beauty
She challenges me to
climb her walls and
touch her many places.
I could spend a lifetime
moving and feeling
my way through her soul.
Her wild beauty keeps me
still, as I contemplate
this part of her wild whole.
She is the land, the seas
and the sky, yet I am
the lover of this part of her.
Looking to the Alps
They stand hand in hand looking to the Alps.
Reflective and oddly calm, she says, “Up here the world is crisp and clean. You and I can talk without the madness of society getting in the way…Don’t you love the way the snow sits upon the mountains, yet the sun still shines and it isn’t too cold?”
He pauses for a few moments to breathe in the crisp air, “It’s beautiful for an Autumn day…the light, it’s welcomed here and not despised…I could live in this country…”
She looks to him and smiles, so he adds, “The sun feels different in Australia compared to Switzerland…Perhaps it is weaker?”
She squeezes his hand and he kisses her forehead, as she responds, “Yes…it feels fainter…let’s stay a little longer.”
Last Rose of Autumn
the sea calls to the wind
the wind calls to the sun
the sun calls to the moon
the moon calls to winter
the land begins to close
as the land closes
the last rose of autumn
begins to take flight
petals ride on the wind,
for there is no sun;
only the moon and winter
