Ears of the Forest 

These tiny white tendrils

perched like innocent ears atop a mossy log

listening to the secrets of the forest…

What stories could they tell us, if they had mouths?

For they have heard the early morning trilling of birds

when everything else was silent

save for dew drops dripping from tall trees

bearded with curly mosses.


They have listened to the lapping of water

at the lake’s edge,

the liquid murmurs flowing over submerged logs 

soaked with sunken memories

–mine, too–

ones I dare not extract from their watery repose

lest I tumble in and get absorbed by their somnolence. 


These little glowing ears…

they could tell of green and growing things,

of red and rotting things,

and of the perfect patience of trees

which live and die and even in death

keep giving life. 

Liquid Sky Blues

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Glassy blue-green perfection
Of the still mountain lake
You are like a magic mirror
A portal into another world
A solemn reflection
With treetops pointing down
To a sky so far below
I feel I could fall for miles
before I reached it

Here on the dock it seems I’m far above the earth
Looking down on a highway of clouds
Wondering if you’re down there somewhere
In this other world
And if I could reach you

The sun shines brighter for a moment
And glows as a golden orb
Floating in that watery sky
Beckoning me
Sending me rippling smiles
As the brightness surrounds me
Here on the dock
On the quiet lake

Before I leave
I plunge in my hand
Into the liquid sky
To feel the coldness
Of the January water

My hand burns a little
And I imagine
It’s almost as cold as you are now
I choke and stand up
Lamenting that I can’t reach Heaven
By jumping into this sky

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