CA Guilfoyle Jul 25
The hills are sloped and soft
with flowers purple, yellow
grown along a path
leading to my home,
a variant mossy world
with berries growing wild.

The forest, it moves slowly in its pace
all of the days in a language
of echoes without words.

In the evening I'll sleep
and dream to be a bird
in the morning
to sing loud throughout
these precious faerie woods.
CA Guilfoyle Jul 22
All day long with clouds and birds
the greens and blues moving through the water
I wish my fingers were water color crayons
to paint these scenes on leaves of paper
to capture water drops on stones, lighter, darker
the sky, the soft rain I taste
all the ways I lived this day.
In the morning to wake up
deep, and breathing
the deep peace.
of an ancient forest.
CA Guilfoyle Jul 13
This trouble, like thunder
oft in the distance, my heart
Oh, it did boom
but far off it fades, this trouble
disappears in the wave
of days, all the ways
in which to die
then mend the wing
again to fly.
CA Guilfoyle May 4
Because our days are straying
and though the nights are spellbound
we are only ever falling away
only ever coming and going.
Near the blue banked shores
we are anchored, bobbing and breathing
the clouds are merely sailing ships
waves of swirling skies.
Upon the tide the moon rips and pulls
stars come to swoon and soothe
floating in the night lands
plush and indigo blue.
CA Guilfoyle May 4
In an earth bound dream
found bare and green
blue between moss and splendor
cool and cold, our hands and toes
wild eyed, through the mud we climb
the darkened stair steps
beyond the stars
returning home
to rest our souls
brief, a dream before
the sleep of
our rebirth.
CA Guilfoyle Apr 24
This wood
cracked and grey
with silent owls that wait the day
at night with eyes that pierce in green and yellow
they wait the moon, so soon to swoop and swallow
the hurried mice fleeing for the banging door
in troubled winds that howl.
At night a haunted place
where branches scrape
the lashing ropes
of hanging
CA Guilfoyle Apr 16
In Klawock stands seven totems
and a madman, chanting under ebon skies,
embedded in cedar wood, he is connecting two worlds
a master carver, in a language without words.
Born of the raven clan,
he is tracing ancestry in the wood
seeks the ways of wolf and bear.
Born of water, amid the realms of earth and air
his spirit runs with salmon.
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