(Youth) This is a young forest. I am older than many of these trees and I too am still quite young. The pines are beginning to fall to make light for the young hardwoods who are ready for the next stretch of forest growth. Soon, they will all be reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. And with each breeze that passes through a few more will fall to the forest floor.
Out of rock
Be still, my heart, these great trees are prayers.
~ Rabindranath Tragore
As Above
Trees are the earths endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.
~ 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.
