Box Elder arms brace for the wrath of the December wintertide monster , naked and forlorn the defenseless struggle onward , Rock bass shine like polished silver in sluggish , crystalline waters
Lakesongs and velvet moss with dancing Birch motion , Crows begin to quote each note verbatim with rehearsed , telltale emotion
Creek rocks command the jetty , foundation and cattle harbors
Morning brooks continuously speak of a hidden , silent struggle* ...

Sour smell of wood smoke
seaweed flayed and dried
upon the rocks
those huddled stones
prone and obeisant to the grey sea

And there
a star that is settling
into the indifferent waves
leaving us cold and bereft
soon to be entwined
with the night

But do not despair
We will wake with the dawn
bring the candle of hope
in our hands
and much peace

A solemn and ocean-deep peace
shared
with every sentient being
in time
and every being departed
from time

The moon has its quarters
the sun its seasons
I have only this tenuous grasp
on life
a primal sense of loss and love
and the dull roar of the Pacific
in my ear

And that night, the wind
in the weeping willow
whispered the melancholy
song of how the blue-eyed
girl was gone...

Upon a cold
winter's night, on
the snowy path they
wandered.
Deep in the forbidden forest.
The wise old owl that lived
in the tall oak was watching
as he sat on a branch.
Old pine,remain hollow.
He hooted to the
indifferent wind: Who?Who?
But it did not reply,
only whistling was heard
while the pinecones shivered.
The first was dressed in silver,
and her sister dressed in gold.
He stared into the moon,
seeking the truth.
So he discovered the stars
twinkling down upon them,
through the pine needles.
Brown wings of once lost light,
wisdom spoken by the night's silence.
And into the darkness they went,
The wise and the beautiful...

.

That barren branch
high above this desolate space
Crooked shade designs on a dying earth,
bent and twisted of past sunlight’s reach
Naked to the green-less world
Rough hewed collections
of ant trail pathways
and rot of all that was good

Once filled with life, happy on the breeze
Summer fashions of leaf pattern wishes
Vistas of blissful post card greetings
Bearing fruit of friendlier times

Now rests in solitude’s wicked grip
Knotted and splintered bark winding
to a fool's ending in winter’s calling
Cold fingers on gray-cast skylines
dying of desperate missing,
fading into a bleak sunset
Disappearing somewhere beyond the dark,
that barren branch – me

Here in the desert
it's been raining
on and off
            for days
making the succulents and cacti
glisten with wetness
their thick skin sparkles
and catches nature's ironic eye
flowers and plants shine
so much better in the half-grey
Here in the prehistoric depths
Of rocky whitewash and silt
             flash floods rush through
flushing out all guilt
         And inside
a raging storm commences
and I feel so blessed
to be a part of this celebration
my lungs expanding in my chest
I breathe in deep
that fresh purity of air
let it cleanse right through me
from my toes up to my hair
It rushes in my body
taking no prisoners in its force
flows through every vein
cleansing poisons in its course
its power flows into me
washing out this stubborn pain
Turning the confusion
                     into clarity again
From inside subconscious thoughts
           realization thunders
rinsing from my mind
                 the emotional strain
and replacing it with euphoric wonders
Come, my raging desert tempest
Bathe me
       penetrate me with wet
restore and purify
my being
take over and disinfect
let me feel my own strength
until it pours out from my cells
into the space inside my heart
where love and lust still dwell
My tears mingle with the sweet drops
                as I fling arms open to the sky
releasing strikes of lightening
for every word I cry
as I summon, pray for lightness
mixed with the sturdiness of earth
Let joy rise up and bubble
within my being
as rebirth