Upon the dark night, striking three;
A tick representing each step in time,
but time overwhelmed by a trinity
of peace, and a plan greater than one's wildest dreams.

As the trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
a bird sings unto the dark night her song, unique, sweet, and free-spirited

Another beauty upon the night, a tulip,
blossoming, not fully grown, in admiration of this free spirit, the bird.
The tulip observes from a distance the song the bird sings

A praise, a never ending thankfulness
"Thank You for the trees,
Thank You for the waves,
And thank You for me," the bird sings.

In awe of the song bird, the tulip longs to grow, to blossom, to fly, to sing;
Oh, the joy, the praise, the song she'll bring
when fully grown to exemplify her thanks to the three

But, Hold! The clock ticking three, a breath He takes.
The songs of beauty the bird once sang
are silenced more than a whisper

Oh, dear, wilting Tulip; she wonders,
"Why?" she misunderstands, "Why has the bird's song been hushed?"
Oh, so joyful with praise, the songs she sang,
but now unto another Audience, unheard by the flower;

However, the sun rises, the flower realizes,
A new day is upon her. The trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
Waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
Just like any other day.

Partaking in full bloom overnight, grown, she hears the call of three:
You're unique, sweet, and your free-spirit will sing,
for the steps of time past quicker than the steady rhythm of that clock ticking

Fly free, song bird,
Your legacy will only grow sweeter with time
As the bloom of a tulip smiles and praises the One unto which your song once thrived.

a grey sky,
my lips pressed
to your lips,
unfastened hair,

in a moment
i am drawn
to you,
in love with
your legs and
your smile,

grey dissidence
of the approaching
storm,
thunder caught
up in the hills,

the roses start
to wilt in the vase,

the roses of the sky
have silent wings,
time knotted
like a handkerchief
against my skin,

i am hollow, my
legs desiring yours,
love the swift sea,
the amber forest,

blowsy silk,
the clouds,
drawn of water,

and i sink
jealous of your love
and your legs,

wanting all of
you to fall in
love with me,

lips pressed
together,
love, my love,
the ghosts
of the storm.

It is all flowing uphill
back into the tributaries
into the headwaters

Life returns to its source
at the end
Chinook salmon spawn in their natal streams and die
their bodies nourish their young
who make haste to salt water
then return from the sea
to repay the favor

Uphill it is for us
a long slog, it seems

We are dedicated enemies
of entropy
unconscious
yet knowing our duty

So these are your instructions.

You must wake each day
and know it as a gift
never pause in worship
never cease your upstream struggles
until it is time
for such foolishness to end.

Grit and muscle
heart and will
life is short
yet sweeter still.

i.

words blur themselves
in the remote reaches
of the mind, verbs
and adjectives search
for voice in a tongue
captivated by ice,
flowering like the
newly blossoming sun.

ii.

frozen,
with the frost
that winter
breathes,
the winter’s silhouette the
ghost of the snow.

iii.

her voice a million
white leaves
learning how to melt
like a little snowman
wrapped in a warm,
red scarf.

iv.

the water breathes
its kiss of ice,

mirrors pressed to
the sky,
white hedgerows
with leaves
that shiver
gathering april's
weak sunlight,

framed like a
watercolour the
shadows of
midnight’s blue inks.

v.

the lake ploughs
its bottle-like
greens, surrenders its
shimmering breath
to the waste land of
the sky.

vi.

love drifts with the seas
where the waves rush
past, a colossal stream
below the blue stars.

the sea flows in,
rolls thunderous waves
against the shore until the
sands are buried in the
deepening water
and the grey rocks
can no longer be seen.

each wave is like
the row of an audience
in a theatre, whistling to
the shrieks of the wind.

it is winter and the
rushing tide
melts in the cold
below a steely mist
that the broad sky
wears like a mask,
gathering her skirts
of cloudy inks.

i hear the water fall
and i sense that i’m alone
with the crying tide,
watching as it speeds
to the shore, spraying
its foamy mist
in the air.

i am isolate, drowning
in the cloudy thunders
of the waves, hearing
the mighty barrels
hiss and whir, dreaming
of love.

Your petals are exposed, open
Shamelessly displayed details  
Puce-pink fades into a creamier hue
Before a vibrant sunny explosion
Splashes all over my eyes
I savour the velvety fragility
On my fingertips, as I touch you
The scent floods my nose; a lively aroma
Birds and bugs are enraptured
And I too am captured
Blooming buds and wonderful weeds
Can be small joys existence needs.

When the snow melted
it took chunks of the road in its thaw.
Potholes sunk
where the water slurpped
away the under-soil.
Silence left with the white
now more venture outside
overstocking supplies
"we'll n'er run out again,"
one swore.
And cats are back spraying,
and dogs barking in confusion.
And the crocus buds to remind me
nothing has really changed
in all this change

In my dreams I see millions of fireflies flying in the dark and illuminating the night with their heavenly light.
As I am watching this scene unfold I see hundreds of frogs on the horizon as they march slowly towards the fireflies I witness a grisly scene. I start to see right before my eyes that the fireflies are being eaten by the frogs. At first one by one but soon hundreds of fireflies have fallen to the skillful tongues of frogs until only a handful of fireflies remain and then there is only one firefly left. Even as the frogs are trying to get that one last firefly it is brighter and lighter than the rest and it is able to easily avoid the tongues of the frogs until it begins to rise above the frogs and into the sky free from the frogs at last. I feel like sometimes we can be like fireflies sharing our light but when troubles come we can easily be swallowed by the frogs of life that try to bring us down but as long as we keep our inner light strong in ourselves we can be like the last firefly left easily avoiding the frogs of life that try to bog and you will rise any trials that life has to offer.