falling leaves from trees
soon to become barren trees ~
feeble forest trees
in the mist wood morning,
he rises
on his slender branch~
a small furry silhouette
against descending gold.
the leaves know him,
rustling his name
in quiet spirals;
the fog parts
just enough
to crown his tail
with pale light.
he is keeper
of the in-between places~
where amber meets shadow,
where breath becomes breeze,
where time pauses
long enough
for magic
to remember itself.
his eyes, bright as dew,
read the woodland’s secrets:
which tree dreams of summer,
which root hums with old stories,
which path is safe
for wandering hearts.
one twitch of whisker,
one soft lift of paw,
and the forest listens~
every branch,
every drifting leaf,
every creature
waiting for his signal
to begin the day.
he is small,
yes~
but the mist knows
power isn’t measured
in size,
only in presence.
and in this suspended autumn,
he stands
as guardian of the golden quiet,
the one who keeps watch
over forest dreams.
trees tall,
leaves fall
wood thick,
dry stick
old bark,
now dark
deep root,
brown boot
ants crawl,
quite small
owl cry,
moon high
a stream,
bright gleam
sun glade,
dense shade
green leaf,
zilch grief
wild moss,
soft floss
seas of trees
green like peas
light wind breeze
puts my mind at ease
before that deep freeze
during eighty degrees
head to Missouri please!
Averting their eyes, the channel they turn
as yet another forest burns
Temperatures climb every year
sure cure for heat – down another beer
Glaciers melting fast, oceans rising
no problem – oldsters busy downsizing
The weather’s now gone insane
forming in the Pacific, three hurricanes*
Sounds awful, but patriots stay in their lane
they just keep toking up on Mary Jane
_____________________________________________________
*as reported in the "Wall Street Journal," 9/5/2026
verdant smorgasbord
asymmetrical forest
glowing blowing leaves
hot and tropical
steam rises from leafy vines
begging for relief
If a poet writes in a forest,
and no one is around to read it,
does it make a poem?
The jury is hung, the verdict is split.
; : Glittering dreams.
:A faded, fatal pond.
:An enshrouded ,clouded sun.
:A flaming, blazed rainbow.
;Thorny butterflies
:An adorned, ornamental
serenity.
: An ineffable Calmness
The evergreen sky.,lighted
carnation.
:A stormy, tempestuous sea.
:An unruffled ,quiet dove.
:God's will enduring, lasting .
: Everywhere stillness,tranquillity and peacefulness.
My heart, though silent, beats steadier, then
Love is written in this gentle voice
Cool winds, playing softly, a moment, when
Gentle thoughts offer no other choice
Singing a chorus of love that believes
My spirit soars to new heights, I can see
Beyond the music of the tree who grieves
Sweetest song, so rich and brave, wind can free
Secured by faith, the joy of love shines bright
Sweetest tones of hope drift over my life
While notes of peace rise from the sunny light
I feel the sway of music that heals worst strife
Thrown about by the dreadful winds of change
Like a leaf in the woods, whose fate feels strange
Just outside Mountain, Wisconsin
the forest lies. It invites me inside
to hear the stories, it longs to tell.
Around a curve a puddle of water
from a fall of rain.
At each turn I never knew
what I would find.
A photo of a bear in the dark
is posted at the gas station.
The clerk said it is deep
within the forest when I
stopped inside for a snack.
No one can say for certain
where the forest ends.
I’m going inside to see
what it reveals. Another level
of secrets lies in undergrowth.
All trees stretch their arms
upward reaching for the sun.
I’m driving around the state
to find my time and place.
Lands once stripped, replanted
in a public works project
during the Great Depression
to give the land new life.
A glance through a crown
shows the sun as it shines on me.
Each morning asks me to start again
after I step outside the motel.
Written 5th Aug 2026 for weekly poetry competition. August 3rd 2026 to August 9th 2026
I am a tall American Sweetgum Tree
Star- shaped leaves colours of purple yellow and red
Graceful ~ loved by all
Robins land on my branches
Sweetly serenade me
Songs of joy sharing nature’s love
Children skip round me giggling
I am head tree guarding the Magical Forest
Unicorns, fairy’s ~ even goblins love me
People come hug me and tell me they love me
Majestic mountains bow to me
Magical kingdom is place to be
Castle glistens in the sunshine
At night owls hoot to me
Lights surround me showing my beauty
I love all seasons especially winter
Snow dazzles and sparkles on me
People from all over world photograph me
Now torn from out the home I’ve ever known,
Propelled by unseen winds to stray away,
The chilling rain that bathes my form is shown
By moonlight in this dance of swift decay.
I twist and turn as tender veins now tear,
Impelled by gales that push me to the dark;
My frantic tumble plunges down to bear
With sudden force against this rugged bark.
Yet, resting in this comforting domain,
I bow, amazed to know the sun will rise;
A deeper life shall bless the soil again,
Where quiet roots ignore the stormy skies.
Held fast within the forest’s cool embrace,
I fade into the shadows of this place.
Upon a forest floor where many lie
and breezes stir, the upper branches bent
to meet the final breath of shrivelled sigh,
a leaf would cling to heaven’s tears when sent.
Its youthful lustre now recalled through tales
as varied as seasons – verdant meadow
below the clouds which often yield to gales
then scud along periphery of show.
When thermal blast from forest fires above
an ocean scape of waves competing in sound
with rumbling progress fits the Man like glove
through ignorance – eventually hound.
A leaf in woods that’s silent, is the Hope
we need to cling to – shadows rest on slope.
The Forgotten Leaf
From autumn's aged bough I took my flight,
Through woodland streams where whispered waters gleam;
I sought fair spring beyond the grasp of night,
Yet none would pause to share my silent dream.
The birds and winds became my faithful guide,
Through frost and bloom, through summer's golden fire;
Still every passing soul unseen would glide,
Nor lift my name from sorrow's darkened mire.
A lily asked, "Why grievest thou alone?"
I sighed, "My heart's a haunted palace still;
Where joy once reigned, cold silence claims the throne,
And empty halls obey forgotten will."
The world saw waste where one young child found art;
Thus lost leaves live forever in one heart.
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