Tag: nature

geese

snow melts

geese fly overhead

their wings

a steady pattern

they call out to each other

as they continue their journey

heading toward a destination

and leaving another place

questions linger

questions fade

the steady pattern of wings

still.

​a small candle sits close by

giving off just enough light

to brighten the room.

it gives off a little warmth

and glows softly in the corner.

i left the curtains open

and decided to leave them that way

outside, everything is perfectly still.

heavy snow hushes

everything around me.

even the snow itself

falls without a sound,

leaving no trace

on this quiet night

the world now

feels monochromatic:

white snow and dark tree branches.

white snow and darkening tree branches

it feels like the world

is turning inward,

gently closing in.

how many times

have i truly been present

like this before,

like i am tonight?

have i ever held

my breath, quiet,

and myself, just waiting

for the sound of daylight

to fade away?

for the sound

of daylight

to drift quietly away like

the faint warmth left behind by a candle.

bare branches

how far do bare branches reach?

i sometimes think about whether they remember where they have been.

they reach out to touch the moon.

it must be a long journey,

farther than the wind could ever carry

our human stories.

when the branches return,

they come back changed.

they never come back the same.

their limbs point out,

reaching for something they cannot name.

they reach out toward the stars

and the scattered bits of light.

they stretch into the darkness,

into old memories.

and when morning comes,

they are changed.

never quite the same.

their bare branches have witnessed something sacred,

they have brushed against the divine.

great migration

The season has come around again.
At this time of year,
It holds memories
of transformation.
I remember it was
When the hummingbirds left,
when they began their
Great Migration.
The air changed a little each day,
growing just a little cooler,
a little
cooler.
Before the hummingbirds left,
they returned,
Their wings a blur of motion.
“Give us the skins
you’ve shed,
the pasts
with no place here and now!”
they said.
We took off our skins and
layers of ourselves,
all the fragile surfaces
that took our breath,
that hid our eyes.
Then we let a stillness come.
A sense of calm where we could say,
“This is how I will remember you!”

the snow is deep

the snow
does not pile up
It was never meant to last
but I lose track of where it
falls across the fields
the ones untouched by wanderers
unmarked except for
a tree that breaks up the
rolling surface
there, the snow is deep
It was meant to be there

a tree

When I am in the woods, I stay quiet

I want to be like a tree

A tree only moves when something moves it

It does not try to imitate anything else

It is always true to itself