3.15.2017

sugaring time {a poem}

steam fills the sugar house until the ceiling
is lost in a white haze
and the enticing aroma of maple
wafts out across the dormant gardens

as the sap winds its way through the pans
from clear and bubbling to golden and frothy
we stoke the raging inferno beneath it
and wait for it to reach the proper density
those brief moments when we open a valve
and syrup trickles out

we stand in the heat and the steam
talking and smelling and tasting
and can easily imagine
generations before us
doing the same






3.08.2017

the stream {a poem}

























the stream has been calling to me
in its calm, rushing voice from
the shallow gully it has patiently
worked into the wooded ground
with the snowmelt that swells it
year after year after decade

I think it wanted me to see
that the world had been transformed
from a soft, quiet landscape
that the snow and its magic
had receded to reveal once again
the earth and all its small miracles
a blank canvas replaced by
moss and wilted ferns startlingly green
against a muted leaf carpet

and trees once again dominate
this landscape of color
while the dancing stream loudly celebrates
its release from ice
in hopes that wandering feet will
wend their way through the inviting trunks
of brown and green and flaky paper
to find themselves at its meandering bank

and perhaps let fingers caress its surface,
recognize that it, too, is a part of the forest




3.01.2017

unwritten {a poem}

they tickle the fringes of my mind
whispering from somewhere deep
within my soul
feather-light words
not yet formed
pleading for entrance, for a pen
to give them shape
and yet they tease--
or perhaps they're just shy--
flitting out of reach
at any attempt to grasp their meaning
countless nameless poems
known only by my subconscious soul






2.22.2017

the wheel of heaven {a poem}

segmented branches of trees
against a backdrop of sky
shafts of sunlight
wafting smoke
crystalline frost
(receding with morning's fire)
a glimpse upward








2.15.2017

clay jar {a poem}

I am an empty vessel
a clay jar
and though the world tries to fill me
with greed and hate and pride
God has already planted within my soul
seeds of love and mercy and hope
my only task
to nurture them and
share the bountiful harvest
of the indescribable treasure
that is God's Light
with all whom I meet
though it may be but a smile
or a kind word
for it is through humble acts
that God changes the world

(2 Cor. 4:6-7)