Untouched

A land’s value increases with

our absence – the smooth lines

of unhumanized spaces

storm touched, swept

by wind and not fingers

priceless

the picture in front concealing

the worthless trail of footprints

created to view the next

path of destruction

The view we seek contrasts with the path we create in the search

I am always fascinated by our pursuit of what lies before us in contrast to our ignorance of the path behind.

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For more paths, of destruction and otherwise, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

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The Face of the Sun

We are blinded

sunstruck

our eyes only able

to see the brightest light

all else fading into

shadow

burned into silhouette

by our need to

gaze into

the face of the sun

We are drawn always to the brightest flame

One of our first lessons as children walking outside is to avoid looking into the light.

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For more light, dangerous and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Into Dusk, Into Autumn

The sun is with us always

for months and months

there is light when we wake

and we sleep and then

suddenly

the sky fades and the flowers

have lost their petals

when we weren’t looking

Remember to look up

It is easy to be caught by the passage of seasons and important to remember to look.

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For more passages, observed and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Reflections, Past and Present

The water carries the mountains

The streams carve out the arteries

the inevitable points of failure

but even in the valleys

those lakes that are not connected

hold the faces of the peaks

of the space between the heavens

and the place where the mountains

slept before they reached for a

higher more dangerous

blue

The water remembers when the mountains were below rather than above

The world has a long memory.

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For more memories, long or otherwise, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Millefleurs

the water writhes

when the tadpoles emerge

a thousand bodies

blossoming in the muck

and only one will live

to grow eyes

to reach the shore and

see a thousand other

blossoms fiercely, briefly

dancing

We dance for as long and short as the time we have

Life is important.

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For more stories of life, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Garden, Gated

The right kind of gate

is not a barrier but a

transformation

it exists to say that

nothing beyond this place

this step that is taken

will ever be the same

We offer the glimpse of magic; the next step is yours.

There is something about the teasing marriage of greenery and fencing that is made for magic and adventure. Thus also ends Alliteration Month! I hope that you enjoyed the title fun.

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For more stories of magical gates and transformative steps, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Securing Sunshine

In the oldest forests

a thousand seedlings die

in darkness

When one of the giants falls

there is an explosion

of green things

desperate youth

In these spaces everything

reaches upwards a thousand

faces searching for

light

We all need space to grow

Transitions are both painful and beautiful.

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For more stories of light and transition, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Water Wound

in a land where water

disappears

ponds draw all threads

together

every plant large and small carefully

woven

without regard for their

differences

in a desperate dance of

survival

There are few tapestries as richly varied as the edges of ponds

In the wildlands, water both draws and binds.

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For more tales of water, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Forest Faces

As a small child

I saw faces everywhere

weeping women in the curve of the river

old men in the shadow of twisted bark

As I grew older

there were monsters as well as people

watching carefully for me to stumble

The forest still greets me

with a thousand faces

but I am person

and monster enough

to love them all

What we see is always our own mirror

Even in a landscape devoid of people, we still bring ourselves with us.

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For more faces of the human and inhuman, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The Darling Buds – Forget Me Not

Does the land remember

what came before?

there were forests here once

and after them fields

this little corner now that is

filled with small flowers

how short is the life

of that garden

compared to all of the land’s forms

and yet-

a thousand years from now

maybe this small part of the world

will dream of blue flowers

and be at peace

Forget-Me-Not: Memories

Every May (and sometimes into June), I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.

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For more memories and persistence, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.