As the Wind Moves


As the wind moves through the tall grass of the mountain

with a soft voice, a whisper really


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


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

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