He floats in the air,
Swaying, prancing,
Twirled by the breeze,
Moving, dancing.
A dance in the air,
On hidden wings,
In love with the music,
Of the wind.
Graceful moves,
A performance brief,
Gently swirling,
The falling leaf.
For a moment on the ground,
He rests and stays,
Then another breath of wind
And swept away!
Flitting, floating,
Up and down,
Slowly in a ring,
Around and around.
Choreographed by the breeze,
In delight once more,
The breeze and the leaf . . .
The dance, encore!

Carousel of clouds,
Tufts of white in a blue sky,
Merrily go round,
Up — down—up celebrating,
The carnival of morning.

No ode for you, periwinkles
No exalted verse or prose
No lover's gift you will be
Unlike the regal rose
Not placed in summer bouquets
In vases - never seen
Nor gracing dark tresses
Nor found in floats of dreams
Yet sweet you are to me
Happy in blue and white
With your merry little faces
Like fairies and lithe sprites.

Dotted in the dusky sky 
Spinning wonders in the eye 
Glowing white in ivory 
On a night of ebony 

There's mystic magic in the air
With golden robes that you wear
Nights in white satin soaked 
As in the sky, you gently float

What mysteries in you dwell 
Weaving charms and casting spells
Kindled hearts each night you win 
With moonlit dreams that you spin 

Surrounded by a million stars 
That hide and seek from afar 
And twinkle as if on a cue —
Nights are dreary without you

The red orange sky
Turns to purple glass
The sun recedes
And the light does pass

Far away and beyond
The curve of the Earth
Conceding to the stars
Their nightly worth

Yet the moon is absent
Unseen on high
Missing from orbit
In the great night sky

And it has been for ages
On this long since strange world
Where once it was near
Now to the void has been hurled

Where it drifts unaware
In thoughtless still dreams
Biding infinite time  
While it happily beams

For a few or great many
In distant aeons to come
Will bask in the light
That it stole from all suns

I found the moon
on a bed of flowers
With his beams
cast in white
In a moonlit garden
that gleamed in silver
On a clear and cloudless
starry night

No reds stood proud
no tangerines
No purples
in royal sheen
Quiet greys
and blooms of whites
tossed back
his ivory light

I found comfort
peace and calm
In darkness
that lent her charm
The greens warmed
by a streaming stole
And beauty
that heals the soul

Each day is lit
by the flaming sun
Yet such loveliness
when the night returns
And what mysticism
and mysteries
In darkness, these eyes can see

A cool and close mist
Hangs over the highland shrubs and trees
Wild and tall grasses bend heavy
Laden with the chill dew
of a perpetually hidden dawn
10 lifetimes of experiences
Have I gathered since I entered here
I feel it was but a few hours ago
Though I have not seen the sun
Nor has the darkness of night
Yet begun to creep into these woods
Maybe from a dream or perhaps
I passed it earlier this strange house
A ***** place with slanted roof and chimney
Sticking out of the earth in such a way
That it appeared to be a natural growth
I feel as though it is so very familiar
Though I cannot say why
Or why no matter the direction I turn
Or for how long I walk
I come unto its doorstep again and again
In my mind it has replaced my own home
If ever I did have another
And whoever might have been waiting there
I have long since forgotten
Yet when I reach this house
Time and time again
I cannot muster the courage to reach out
To take hold of the handle and turn it
To enter in to that abode
And here I come again
I see it emerge out of the gentle fog
Comfortably nestled on a hillside
I stand for a moment at the gate
The walk through it and a long a path
Interspersed with a step or two here and there
As it turned inwards and outwards
Ascending the hill into the homes entrance
In a moment I stood at the door yet again
Hand half outstretched towards the ****
I placed my hand upon
Feeling the cool of brass
Yet the warmth of something else
Something half remembered from youth
From years long since entwined with dreams
I turned the **** gently
Not yet feeling the click of the lock
I felt a fresh wind at my back
And I rather spontaneously
Wrenched my hand and wrist
All the way to the right
I could feel the weight I’ll the door
Unhindered by any lock or stop
And I pushed through the humble
Yet mighty wooden thing open
And was greeted by a deepening night
Full of countless radiant stars.

The rolling plains give way to the deep forests,
Dense and full of springtime vigor.

Yet far within, these woods are thick with moss and untold mystery.

Many that enter are never heard from again,
but few will tell you that it is always their choice,

As they found something far better than anything they had left behind.

I sit here on the edge of these woods,
the warm smoke of my pipe faintly combating the crisp submountain air.

I sit here in the evening, not long before dusk slowly unravels the sky, to reveal the stars once more.

I take a draw from my pipe, its light beginning to show shadows on my face, as the daytime hours dwindle.

The sun sets as I place my pipe back into my well-worn coat pocket.

As twilight arrives, I set off into those peculiar woods,
And I hope I will not return

opening their petals
raising stamens to the sky
allowing leaves to dance
and pollen to fly
carried by wind,
floating past trees
to one day be cradled
by a neighboring blossom
or the cold soil beneath

I wish that someday, someone would say that they could bring the stars and the moon for me.
Of course it’s unlikely that such a thing happens.
But once in a way, I wish someone would just say that they could.

Meanwhile let’s count the stars.
And one night, if some stars and the moon go missing in the sky…
I think you’ll know why.