The Softness Will Whisper

Within the safe haven of leaves and tree branches,

within the depth of the lake,

the stillness

of water reflecting,

the softness will whisper 

of peace, of a healing within

bringing a quiet

to our spirits.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Light Was Already Dancing

As I walked into the woods today the light was already dancing,

filtered through the leaves,

pulling me,

pulling my spirit closer,

into the healing.

I stood for a long time

at rest, confident,

grateful even

that I was part of the earth now,

part

of the light dancing.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies

Note: From my archives.

Listening for the Healing

As the wind moves through the canopy of forest,

memories of prayers sway

with the branches, listening

for the healing, I close my eyes

and realize

there will be no war

to shield my scars,

only a light rain now falling,

renewing a song……

within me.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 2019, ancient skies

Note: From my archives a revised poem.

Butterflies Dance in the Forest

Butterflies dance in the forest, discovering the leaves

while the buzzing from a honey bee flies over,

but it’s the deer that discovers me first,

expecting her to run,

I whisper blessings,

with her heart at peace again

she bends down to feed.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Summer Light

The summer light seems so much more beautiful, streaming

through the coolness and comfort

of the dark forest.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

As the Hawk Flies Further

Our mountains seem quieter now, the silence

of bare trees, fewer boots disturbing

the trails, and creatures of the forest

choosing to stay

indoors, preferring the burrows

of warm earth, covered

with layers of dry leaves.

As the hawk flies further away

searching for her food.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

I Remember the Forest Speaking

I remember the forest speaking, being lifted up with birdsong, woodpecker knocking

under the watchful eye of the hawk, and I will try not to dwell on the death of the colors

as I bury the leaves under my feet, instead I will look forward to the birth

and the snow that covers us, with so much peace.

        

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies