Writing of rivers he knew so well, yet writing of the wind, who can say? Who can describe the clouds
above our ruins? His hawk knew the way, speaking of peace carried on wingtips
yet a stronger wing does not always lift the wordflow….
he simply prayed, and his pen
wrote the fire.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed
Out in the snow today, swirls capture my attention, putting a smile on my face,
for the wind has a lot to say, and even in this wildness
I sense a strong peace
beginning.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed
Deep within the winter forest, pine trees sway, while chipmunks burrow
a little deeper
as God speaks, in a whirlwind
of snow.
Wholeness, in the winter silence.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2020 rivers renewed
As I watch from the back of our a house, a mystical snowstorm embraces, engulfs the top of the mountain,
following the ridgeline, wind howling, raging into swirls, some sleet falling, tearing
at the bare limbs of the forest, and I wonder can there be any beauty in the middle of a storm?
Or should we expect the fire of an ancient prophet, or maybe visions of a flaming sword?
A few minutes later a quiet snow descends, reaching our neighborhood, as the wind moves softly now,
and God speaks, this time using the pine trees.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
Note: We can see the mountains from where we live. Storms begin there and move in our direction.
A cold wind descends, blowing through the pine ridge,
coming down from the mountain
sloping, traveling down over the boulders
and into the valley,
causing young and old
to sink further down
into their blankets, as they lay sleeping,
dreaming of bells on sleighs
and gifts under the tree
for soon, it will be…..
Christmas.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Winter cracked open the sky today, letting loose a little snow
and a whole lot of wind, ripping
through the pine trees.
The perfect weather
for snuggling down,
and reading some poetry
together.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
As I stand on top of the mountain,
where the pine trees face the wind,
two hawks soar
banking in my direction,
carrying strength in their wings
so that I can stand tall in the wind now,
encouragement fills me,
so I say, “Thank you my brothers.”
while sunlight dances
on the river.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies
Note: From my archives.
It was windy on the beach today,
with children chasing waves,
and seagulls
ruling the skies.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
You didn’t really hear me when I spoke but I was aiming more for the sky instead of your ear,
hoping the words would ascend floating
around in the heavens replaying
in the form of a song,
encouraging us
again and again. You looked up
and feathers began falling reminding us of snow,
it was some sort of sign I’m sure
we stood there
knowing we were the prayer
our heart song riding……
on the wind now.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Back in the day, when the Lakota still carried power in their feathers they would call on the Wind Spirit to protect them from the sharp eyes of their enemies.
The Wind Spirit would howl, blowing in a ferocious storm so that not even the hawks could see the lodges of the people, barely seeing the pine trees through the snow.
And the Wind Spirit continued to howl until all fear was gone having been breathed through, the nostrils of the Lakota ponies.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2019 ancient skies
