I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
~ Pablo Neruda
Jones Gap
My breath before me
A hat upon my head
In absolute stillness
I hear the katydid sing
So close I can hear the massage of their wings
Before his music fills the air
Of the night.
I climb giant rocks
To better look out over the river
Gazing into the wandering waters
The stories it's molecules can tell..
Without from whence it came
It would have no where to go.
In the darkness of the new moon
The wolf moon
I have heard the Owls song
And the coyotes howl.
I wonder over all of it.
How did they come to also be in this time?
In this place?
Out of rock
Be still, my heart, these great trees are prayers.
~ Rabindranath Tragore
Ember
I gaze to the paling rosy sky
And hear the rustle of the drying leaves,
The calls of the downy woodpeckers,
The joining together of the bird guilds.
I delight in the song of the pine warbler
And the chirp of the crickets
Both calling Fall to spread herself
Upon the land
In hues of golds, red, and orange.
I listen for the last of the cicada song
Fading fast
On the branches of trees
Just beginning to release their leaves.
I wait for the morning glories to open
Right with daybreak.
I watch them close
Their job well done at sunset.
I live for the light.
