Vast, this snowy land
still and deep the quiet country
cold the cloudy fog we breathe
gasping winds that rise and break the silence
along a fence line, slowly disappearing
how small the trees and distant hills that fade like smoke
and loom the clouds like ghosts, blooming madly white - the sky
if in winter we should meet deep along some snowy height
gazing as the grey and whites fade swiftly into night
some evening silently await the moon, void of words to speak
with great Peace - to breathe beneath the great north star that shines

Cool cloud shrouded air, here where I find myself
surrounded by giants, legends, these mountains
I am miniscule as one grain of sand
the people here are giant, green saguaros
holey, with birds that live within
they are fit with wild reaching arms
guardians of the desert land
anchored, deeply grounded
in this whirling vortex
unhurriedly they grow
blooming yellow flowered
with petals that pale and fall
they are true friends
that I have come
to know

The rain it pooled deep within the leaf, the hollow
and drank there - insect, vole and swallow
along a mud and marshy path, my feet for to follow
and tread upon the lichen moss, I sank softly greening
watching all the day, the trickling of the woodland trees
the light that breathed there glistening.

Swift, the rain in colors grey
black the daylight whisked away
by steely skies, charcoal smudged
the ashen clouds amid blowing winds
surreal this field, this pelted land
the scream of hurried birds, that scatter

To end this, is to run blindly - falling
loose limbs wild and flailing
with hands that can no longer grasp
a saving grace, a final branch
we are lost in desolation
it is pure wilderness
a long winter's night
with no path or tracks
to follow, cold like snow
we plow this landscape, barren
deep and dark below
to seep into the soul
lingering long in limbo
the ache of holding on
transformed into
the pain of
letting go

How I loved your mouth
the way your words belled forth
rang in soothing song
your lips and all the rest
days of coming home
in meadows or prairie suns
by love's fiery field
how we were
consumed

Winter's amber fire
the ashen woods we burned
wet smoulder of mire
the water and the fire.
Dark ancestral home
nights moon shivering cold
stars fixed or falling
beyond the skies fiery yields
only dying embers
lost in oblivion's field.