In the Spirit of the Mountains


In the spirit of the mountains we are confident,

having touched the sky, we can reach

now with our own spirits reshaped,

with wings extended

our wordflow

has a stronger heart.

And our poems can live

and breathe on the earth,

and move

in a marvelous way.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies




Sagebrush as I walk through the tall grass

my fingertips reaching,

a feather falls from the sky

and the hawk yells,

“Good morning, my brother!”

his shadow covers me

as I lift my eyes,

searching the sky. 


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

In His Reflection by the Creek


Snow and ice crunching under his boots, and a strange gray reflection

rippling across the creek, with deer tracks on the other side.

He paused, zipping up his coat a little further,

watching the trees bend.

He remembered traveling through time

hunting for visions with bows

wearing buckskin

and an occasional feather,

but it was long ago

on horseback,

so instead, in his reflection

by the creek,

he took some pictures.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies