poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
In those lines where our borders are broken and despair
seeks to laugh at us, there are poems still forming
stirring our spirits, so we can launch
our prayers
into the autumn colors,
and beyond.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
When lovers whisper of blankets and leaves they find
true victory in surrender,
in the letting go.
Accepting the beauty and power
of the colors, with snows
of winter following us
to finally the rebirth
of the earth
in the spring.
Each a time
for love,
and embracing.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
My Love, all I want for my birthday this year, is time with you
up on the ridge,
where we can breathe
in our confidence
letting go
of all our fears
walking through the pine trees
watching the brilliance
of all the leaves
dressed in their colors, dancing
in the wind.
The two of us encouraged
as we walk under the oaks,
maples and poplar trees,
their essence enfolding us,
the smell of leaves
as we embrace,
speaking life
into each other.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Note: It’s not quite my birthday. Not yet! 🙂
Whispers of autumn speak gently at first,
in the sweet stillness
of a cooler night.
With grey clouds rolling
pushing out the heat. Blue
is often brighter.
And in the morning chipmunks
gather extra food,
skittering, preparing
for the dance
of colors
in the light.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In the final chapter of autumn, we will still be infused
with her colors and inspiration,
her invigoration,
if only
in our memories.
Note: These will probably be my last photos this year
of the inspiring colors of autumn.
Poetry and Images © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
It’s not that we pack away autumn,
tucked away for next year
but her fire burns deeper now,
into our memories.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
As the leaves fly, high up on the ridge, swirling
in late autumn, the bears within
our spirits, lose their hold,
claws releasing
as a oneness returns pulling us
back into peace,
with the smell pine trees
and the healing of the cold air.
We can walk even further now.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
