Tag Archives: nature

You and The Mountain

I search for you on the wind

the wind shimmering up the west peak

the mountain exhales snow in bursts of white

until I stand alone waiting for the avalanche

he brushes my cheek and it’s ice

I am not standing there anymore

You are the avalanche

the snow the mountain breathes

in and I fall into your

sharp ice embrace

until all that is left of me is you

and the mountain breathes


Waiting for the Sky

She sits at their roots


for the sky to call her beautiful

her eyes hunting

for sunlight between

branches that hide the moon

as the wind winds its fingers

through her hair, pushing strands across her

skin in the pale glow

of a trembling forest

and she stands when the

oak trees begin to hum

a deep throaty sound

that envelops her in whispered dreams

of green grass and a white stag

leaving an ache in her bones

and water in her veins

it’s surface pulsating

with the sound and she can hardly bear

the weight of it, its tempo rising

louder and louder until she takes their

branches in her hands to dance

and they step, twirling with the rise

and falls of yesterdays and tomorrows

through the luminosity of stars

in the blaze of dawn, faster and faster

she is nothing but dust and golden cobwebs

their bodies bright with lightening and desire

and her hair is fire and her eyes rubies

the motions of her arms

fluid and diamond in the dark

the thrum of oak and pine

spinning tales of redemption and ruin

until all that is left

is ethereal and it will be enough.

It is



She opened her eyes to the sky
and wind and loneliness—
where the bench in the park was empty
and her voice echoed
off the walls of the tree house,
a solitary monument to the past.

Forgotten and shrouded in rusted ivy,
it was smaller than she remembered
and smelled like
dust particles floating in the sun;
she remembers your face
from the beginning, you were the first,
a footstep on the moon.

Raising her hand to wipe the cobwebs away
she coughs as dust fills the air, almost ready
to leave, go back.
But the moonlight winks at her
through the stars and for a second
she knows what it is to smile.

Bracing against the wooden beam she stands
and looks out into the night,
a small breeze rustling the strands of hair on her forehead;
The air is dark and cold, and she can barely see
the path leading home, now just a fading
crease in the dirt
she used to know
by heart.

Lifting her face to the sky, she gasps
when the moon reaches out to take her hand,
but she likes the feel of stardust on her eyelids
and moonbeams in her hair,
so she holds its hand tight
and prays,

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might
have the wish I wish tonight.

Standing on tiptoes she opens her eyes to the sky
and wind and loneliness–
where the bench is still empty
but her voice permeates the walls of the tree house,
a solitary monument in the park.