Nature

Beauty

Beauty

The very word born of the trees

My stained-glass heart ruptures for thee:

A pang of joy to cure dis-ease

For the Birds

The birds sing to me each day,

Goading me to, “Come, make hay!”

Coaxing me toward a shift

Reminding me, ’tis all a gift

A Winter’s Poem

It seems these trees, chilled to the bone,

Leave us to fare winter alone

But deep within, where work is done,

Each branch is vital as the sun

For one is the whole, and whole of the hive,

When we retreat, we are most alive

Essentia

The last remaining ember,

The twin stars colliding

Present at my birth,

Beside as I lay dying

The ruins of Rose City,

The treasure of Bell Island

The air beyond my fingertips,

The morning mists of Titan

The sun behind clouds:

But now, you’re breaking through

You are the bedrock of all promise:

The chilled light of the moon

Adhaereo Virtuti

I’ll write a song called Virtuti

From all the words you’ve given me

I’ll pour them into rocks, like veins

And place them back from whence we came

And by the moon’s fair gravity

Your words will ring true from the sea

Flutterby

I’ll write a song called Flutterby

With words that dip low, then swing high

Along a staff of golden rays,

Our clumsy cares will cast away

And when our timid souls take flight,

We’ll coast in the candescent light

I See Myself (3)

I see myself in every fear

Each private moment of despair

Each suffocating tragedy

Each new hope born of alchemy

I See Myself (2)

I see myself in every park

Each sun-soaked leaf, and strip of bark

Each lover lain beneath a tree

Each sacred simplicity

Dance Card

They say the best way out is through

And so I’ll take this dance with you

I’ll follow pace, I’ll move in time

You set rhythm, I’ll match with rhyme

One step forward, one step back

I’ll learn to balance where there’s slack

When you long to dip me low,

I’ll arch my back in even flow

And Life, when we’ve moved through my fears,

My dance card will be free and clear

His Private Garden

In his private garden,

He weeds and seeds and sows

Slowly and steadfastly

Hoping his flowers grow

In his private garden,

He plots and prunes and preens

Squarely and sure-footed

He is master of his dreams

In his private garden

Without fear or feign

A violet shared her colours

Blooming in the rain