Tag: Nature


Nature is privately owned
Can’t go to the river
where I used to go to
be with the stones
It’s posted
If I pay
I can stroll
a National Forest
with all the other
landless folk
engulfed by humans again
That which none could
ever own
bought and sold
No escape
It’s on the bill of sale
Stay away!


Eight days into March
and the snow is falling
hard (harmless) like the
after encountering
it’s lost its teeth
Imposing in appearance
but incapable of creating
much chaos Winter has
abandoned his most
famous child
left to bleed out on
the mean streets of
approaching Spring

Renaissance Man

And here’s March
jaunty as fuck
opening a briefcase
of January
papers flying
but he doesn’t care
because March is a
renaissance man
ready for anything
a handkerchief of
summer in his
back pocket and he
might use it
might not
either way
he won’t change
until he’s ready


The grey squirrel is careful
in his approach but no
more than that
Not a surreptitious bone
in his lithe rodent body
hanging on the feeder
gorging on the bounty
intended for the finches
and their assorted friends
lined along the deck rail


This bitter wind is a
shepherd to the trees
deftly shearing the
snowy fleece from the
Leyland Cypress along
the fence line
The white crystals
leap skyward
before falling
to earth a
second time
around the
freshly shorn

Request (Invocation)

Oh great owl
Ruler of the night
wings outstretched
in silent flight
Hearing and seeing
the tiniest things
invisible things
secret things
Sister of the moon
bathed by her light
Messenger in a
thousand dreams
come and take me
to your forest keep
where I can seal away
this pain


Dispatched some eight minutes
or so ago and told to cross
one-hundred fifty million
comes a benediction
A small piece of the sun
streaming through the
palladium window
spans the family room
and lays hands upon my
sitar in a shining
silent blessing

The Snow Is Dying

The snow is dying
I hear its chaste white limbs
exploding against the cedar boughs
See them as they fall shattered
to the ground
No one weeps
The earth will absorb
every trace of its
blood to feed the
waiting blooms
of Spring

One Hot Summer’s Hour

I would tear through the woods
and they would in turn tear me
I still have coats and jackets
wearing the scars from brambles
and barbed wire
that I kept going
though lost once in the thick
near the Civil War crossing
point of Kelly’s Ford
Arms torn bloody by
interminable thorns
that formed
a harsh green wall
Nothing could be seen
more than four feet
in front of me in
any direction
so I paused


I listened hard
for the river
The Rappahannock
was near and if
I got there it
would lead to

Rivers always do

So I forged toward
the song of the rocks
being played by the water
The briars grasping
Every step impeded
Still I ripped free
until I found that
sweet rushing water

And a fellow fishing

Less than an eighth
of a mile from where
I started
from life to death
to life again in
the span in one
hot summer’s hour