I like the quiet
Found in the woods
As the trees silently mutter
Of their aches and pains
I feel sympathy
In my own old limbs
The path is best
When the sun bends
Through ferns and fir
To follow me
Sometimes a crow comes
Briefly to chat
So much though
That I can hardly wait
to enjoy them leaving
For the forest whispers softly
And loud talking distracts
I like to listen
To hear my breath
Take on the gentle rhythm
Of my footsteps
Let my eyes become knowing
See the mushrooms
Growing proudly
I prefer the chatter
Of leaves falling
In a flutter
As the breeze unbuckles them
Or to sit on one of the fallen
Stroke the bark
Feel old words like leather
Stored in hidden rings
Telling stories
Of living and dying
Found in the woodland silence
7-27-2020
A poem inspired by the poetry of Mary Oliver
One half is submerged in light,
the other in darkness.
Half says goodnight and the other
tugs the harness.
Kids climb backyard trees tinged
with school bus yellow.
As lovers play hide and seek
in the nighttime meadow.
Training wheels lay abandoned -
youthful eyes bear cornea confidence.
The silver spokes whistle through copper leaves -
once in a lifetime decadence.
August stars say their last farewell
in glorious beelines.
Whilst wrinkled fingers grasp the moon
in delicious daytime.
A woman dressed in white walks down the aisle -
her father proudly flaunts.
As a preacher recites Scripture at a funeral:
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want...
A newborn's laugh lights the whole world up
with effortless ease.
Whilst a pair of liver-spotted legs
unbuckles its knees.
One takes the first step -
the other reaches the end of the line.
One is a wealth of wisdom -
and the other is a gift divine.
Tiny toes to caress the sand,
ashes to sprinkle in the sea -
as if Nature itself has read aloud
Ecclesiastes Three.
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