Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
​Much of spirituality
tips its cap at
surfing well,
the changes
of a human life

Reading the tides;
our internal compass

pointing at the outer world
following suit

Aligning with the cycles
of nature
hugging trees
while howling at the moon

Witnessing the earth
trying to be

Setting our leaves free;

Making space
​for Spring to bloom again
There is a saying, "You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf" This poem is a nod to it.
We moved a few hours south of the rainforest
still holding on up in the native corners
of the still wild NW

A few hours south of where I slid into
this life

& upon our return

he said,
“if you make it 3 years you’ll stay forever”

you either turn from the rain
or rush in joy
into the damp
face of it
Each day
The weight of a leaf

into a pile
we gather
at the end

Each leaf is 5 grams;
but the pile
hundreds of

No weight in our hand
Simply the feeling
Of crisp form

Its corners, ridges,
And variegation
of hues

Some days we conclude in prayer,
“Oh, thank God it’s over,”

Yet it counts,
this one leaf,
filling our bin of days


One leaf at a time.
All the days fill the leaf pile of experiences that are our life. They may feel light and mundane, yet they add up.
As legs hang on rusty hinges
the strides of doorways
lesser long

wisdom crisps its palms 
up to the hearths of winter
on walks

Older finds joy 
watching little jelly movers
under the snowy leaves 
of autumn's fall

There is freedom 
in holding back;
experiencing exuberance
perched high in cedar
witnessing the now moments
of a uranian world
from a fifth dimensional view

Knowing that Love
sourced from the heart
affects the observed
just as true.
The Spiritual benefits of moving into the slow lane
Fog blankets the stage

a bark trail underfoot,
made soft by the mist;

trees as

the silent dog
matching footfalls
four and two

under a downpour
of such

transmuting us
to formless

that alchemy

of singular
water drops

A study on the shift from duality into Oneness.

"Individuality, in Emerson’s view, is secondary to unity. Each of us is inseparable from all people, all plants and animals, the Earth, our solar system, and the entire cosmos." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
A Poem on hearing the voice of nature

The open field
Bordered by firs elders
Covered in blooming
Lemon clover
Left space

Inside this vast openness
I set down my burdens

My worries
& discomforts
And the burlap
they rode in on

What was left was
clear azure sky

Holding a new sound
authored by birds

soft breath
Inside this dome of space

Oh most definitely,
dogs speak

in the secret language
translated by those
who love them beyond

The sun shoots a cannon
across the ridgeline of the trees
paralleling the emerald horizon

Pouring golden syrup over the eastern trunks
of exhausted autumn trees

The sunrise casts a spotlight
this magical stage

pulling back the curtain
over the
enchanted valley floor
There is a transformative effect that never yields when we spend time outdoors.
At the beach house
you don’t need much
an old mossy table
the boards
collaged in pine needles
a firepit
domed by scorched
trees huddling
stitched together
as one quilted canopy
hoping for wisdom below
A snappy fire
fanning air
grows crisp
and birds
the birds
oh the birds
their songs above
always their songs
A Poem on the magic inside a simple drive to the coast
Next page