I once saw peace peeking through the willow tree, light speaking
clearly saying to hold on, to carry hope,
to keep courage,
close
to my heart.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed
We were so in love My Love, we hardly noticed
the mountain wind moving us closer,
cheeks rosy,
holding each other,
your hair all over the place
our first autumn together,
with tree limbs swaying
while we fell in love.
First kiss memories.
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
Faded eagle dreams and faded jeans, combing grey hair, boots laced and a light weight camera,
the trails call, moving my spirit beyond crows, rejecting dark wings…I become the silence of trees, and wildflowers holding bees,
where light flickers through the canopy, I seek to know, as anyone could know, the Lord God,
like I did as a young man….
in a place that peace
calls home….
Poem, and Image, Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
In the shadows of winter, bark becomes prominent
in diffused light
the roughness of cold air,
with vague memories
of life lived in green
we pray for the life of the sun,
to be lifted again.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
In the grey dawn, in this time of in between,
in the silent barreness
of our woods underground
bumble bees draw close,
and chipmunks remain silent,
praying for a blanket
of snow, and to remember
where their acorns
lay hidden.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
In the silence of trees, a mystery held
as the leaves gently hold
our prayers until the wind
moves softly,
through the canopy.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Perhaps all we really need is to lose ourselves
on a quiet wooded trail,
lifting our heads to the warm caresses
of the sun on our faces,
to fill our lungs with the air
from blue skies,
to embrace the power
and the beauty
of all that was made.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies
Each leaf takes its turn, dancing
in the sunlight, proclaiming
the sweet victory of hope
in the affirmation
of spring.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
A shifting drift on the mountain ridge maneuvers
as a fresh layer of frozen white settles into the Earth.
The bluest of blue skies seems to hold in the coldness,
as chipmunks burrow
a little deeper, to escape the cold
and the watchful eyes of the hawk perched high
in the pine trees.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies