Dance with the clouds.

Walking this path more often than not gasping for breath, it feels possible. 

If I just make it that final mile, those last few steps for ascension, impossible seems inevitable.

The sun has moved, it’s no longer rising.

My legs have tremors pulsing from thigh to toe.

What if this is it?

I am only meant to witness, not participate.

Would it bring fulfillment enough?



Winter, summer, spring, and fall

despite what is said and too often believed- a flower can bloom anytime.

Within, that’s where the beauty is found, with all its color stripped.

Given a glimpse of sun,

given a drip of water, 

given a chance,

the roots take hold.

Capture it in your mind, memories forever give the kind of justice a photograph fails to do.

Down Stream

The power is overwhelming to my senses.

The sound it makes as it crashes into or crushes everything in it’s path reverberates inside of me.

To hitch a ride or to fight, the decision isn’t as simple as it appears.

For years I would have run away. 

Afraid of the cold,

Unsure of the pressure,

Captivated by the other shore.

My lungs quiver in anticipation. My souls knows there’s no other option.

First a tie,

Then my legs,

The current embraces me to the next destination.

Outside my Window

Fall is coming, all that was lush and green will fall under death’s trance.

A temporary respite from the living. A momentary invitation to dance in death’s shadow.

Does nature get a chance to know what lies beyond? Is that why it fights so hard every spring?

If given the choice to know all, to have all the mysteries revealed I’d fight like hell.

No mysteries- No satisfaction.

Rope Lights 

Sometimes even the light needs support.

Nothing more solid than an old tree firmly rooted along the riverbed.

It offers a platform, a blank canvas for the light to manipulate.

With each passing moment the sun sets further to the west allowing the light to come to the forefront.

Then and only then,

If and only if

you are willing.

The sparkle will show the unrepeatable contours of the bark.

Easily missed but it’s shelter allows for everything else.

Never underestimate the shell in nature, or

in you.

Summer Changes

I think what I like most about the summer is its ability to be dramatic. It can be sunny and cheerful one moment and then dark and destructive the next.

You think you can see the storm coming but you can never be sure until it arrives.

There is no preparation only experience.

It strikes me as the right way to approach the world


for me, for tonight, writing.