Sum Unknown
Three For The Businessman
Blood Red Roses
This Patchwork Soul
Sweet Majesty
Still Life
Inner Fire
There is a woods not far from here
of maple, elm, and oak,
and when my spirit’s feeling drear
and human antics choke,
I like to wander through the trees
on trails the creatures make
and listen to the playful breeze
as leaves and branches shake.
I slowly feel the echoes fade
of life’s relentless din,
the wretched drone of life’s parade
that keeps us hammered in.
And in its place I seem to find
a rhythm more in tune
with nature’s old instinctive mind
that thinks by sun and moon.
The sparrows dart from twig to twig,
on nimble threads it seems,
as sunlight dances Irish jigs
in hazy verdant beams.
The squirrels watch my wandering
with cheeky black-eyed stares,
then tire of heavy pondering
and bound away in pairs.
I sense that I am on the verge,
and harmony is near,
when suddenly the forms emerge
of shadow shifting deer.
They move like vapor through the trees,
a cloud of agile force,
that glides with such a graceful ease
on any chosen course.
It happens when I pay no mind
to what I am or where,
that suddenly I seem to find
a subtle inner layer,
a layer of life that stands behind
the surface life we see,
where all that’s real is first designed
and shaped to live and be.
Within this realm I see the things
that myth and legend name,
from busy elves to fairy kings
and sprites that dance like flame.
They each perform their special task
of weaving out of light
that tapestry behind the mask
that fills our sense of sight.
They seem to know that I am there,
but pay me little heed,
continuing without a care
at such amazing speed.
The rules that bind our world tight
are nowhere there applied,
and yet it seems so strangely right
to find the rules untied.
I try to pick a quiet place
to sit and take it in,
to watch the elementals race
and see the webs they spin.
From time to time a unicorn
like magic will appear—
to bring an infant yet unborn
to squirrel, bird, or deer.
And several times I’ve seen a sphere,
all gold and glowing bright,
then felt a goddess drawing near
from deeper layers of light.
Although I know such wonders are
a constant in this place,
it is a treasure rare by far
to feel their warm embrace.
These sweet enchantments fill me so
and leave behind so much,
for days I bask in afterglow
and linger in their touch.
I’m sure this realm exists behind
our city streets as well,
but cities make it hard to find—
too hard to break the spell.
For me a trail between the trees
is all that I require,
the magic of a woodland breeze,
that touch of inner fire!