Maple Leaves Reaching for the Sky

As I was carried in the wind, up and over the far side of the ridge

the smell of Christmas brushed my skin, in the swaying

of pine trees

with maple leaves watching

reaching for the sky.

The mountains embraced, the sun today.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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Her Future Glory

It was a small flame, on a single tree leaning,

as if she’d been hiding,

high in the mountains

on a cool crisp morning,

revealing only a part

of her future glory.

I smiled remembering

her fire of yellow, gold, and red,

so I breathed in,

accepted the embrace

of the brillant fire

of autumn.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies

Note: From my archives.

Within the Waves

What is it we search for within the waves?

Is it simply the rhythm

of the earth washing our spirits,

or maybe a reflection

pulling from our memories within?

Mostly I think, we become……

at peace with ourselves. 

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

A Summer Breeze

A strong summer breeze moved through the trees of the mountain,

inviting the sun to wash over us

bathing the forest

while a crow fled the light

seeking darker shadows

to sleep in. 

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Hawk Ascends

A perfect union of earth and sky, drawing me in,

calling forth who I once was

before the ruins descended.

I take a knee,

remembering

letting go now of the prayer

I’ve been carrying

for so long, eyes closed

my back lurches and my wings extend,

unfolding

as my spirit reaches

into the clouds.

Note: Is he human or is he hawk? It’s hard to tell sometimes. 

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

I Often Think of Hawks

When I walk this trail, as so many generations did before,

through the shadows of the pines,

over the large rocks and small,

I often think of hawks,

and shadows of wings

covering the earth

and of a people

who roamed free.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

As the Wind Moves

As the wind moves through the tall grass of the mountain

with a soft voice, a whisper really

reminding

we are of the earth carrying 

fragments of soil in our veins,

pieces of clay in our bones

and an echo of the divine

in our skies.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, 2019, ancient skies