Soft the silver needles
falling to the ground, tiny boughs
wet with misty raining seas dampening
dark the forest trees, late in summer
call of early morning
blue the sky, blue the salty cry
of sailing seagulls
this breadth of day
brief a moment
hovers, then
flies away

Woods, the birds on branches, swing
words, the forest trees, will sing
of summer winds, a leafy song of green
blue the sky is painting, not a cloud
only the sparkling of sun, a song
of mosses warmed, a fragrance undone
black and fuzzy yellow bees, circle hypnotically
tiny hunters, drunk with pollen, disappearing
in the tiger lily towers, and fly they
home to serve a sacred queen
all the day, the sweetness
of gathering honey

It came softly warm, mist of fragrant showers
bright flowers of parchment petals, drank
of sun, of moon, of rain
a world glistening, silent
as perseid shooting stars
falling from a sea
of heavens

In the warmth of a summer forest
I sat in the mossy scented air so low
quietly still, as silent raindrops fell
my woodwind breath of music, floated
as I remembered how to breathe
awakened in my soul, a well of joy and sorrow
it came in waves, to flood the heart, it's empty halls and chambers
a wave of grief soon surfacing, and I with nowhere else to run
was made to feel, letting the wave take me, a wet washing of tears
cry of locked away fears - deep to feel
of my hidden soul, a truth revealed
how sacred a moment, a place to heal

There is only a flashing, of soul
a susurrous echoing, hidden, hushed away
in the running down of slipping sands and fall of dreams
an ocean of water washing waves, bury and uncover
one cannot ignore it's constant call
an ache, beautiful a sorrowful longing
deep, calling you home

after the storm
an efflorescence
still drips the air
still the rain so near
only, just here
earth of fire, quelled  
where a storm seeps in
copper veined, iron blood
burning blue this place
of redolent warmth
unseen