tree spirits beckoned
through pools of dawn's blushing glow
trees silvered seeping with soft musk and hazel
their lilting throngs of whispering tilleul arms
splitting misted air into swirls of hushed enchantment
pressed into the grass with strokes of emerald shade
etched into that twisting turret
lines
a hundred
each a miniature scroll of letters and words
blazing through sap and bark and bramble
each a sample of language
the ancient and vast
ink of sun's blood, gilt and dragon's fire

I looked about my windowsill,
and there a lovely whippoorwill,
stood and sang a lovely tune,
about my birthday coming June,

Out in the middle of a real nowhere,
where the light is gently falling,
dark come soon as night comes in,
as birds so sweetly calling,

Mosquitoes bite in summer time,
this place can be quite hot,
but staying in would be a crime,
while getting out is not,

For now the lovely whippoorwill,
who sings the lonesome way,
amidst the frozen earthly loam,
and branches in decay,

I sit alone to hear that song,
the whippoorwill, my heart,
take me back to yesterday,
I rise again to start,

Just like a cancer born in June,
the whippoorwill he loves the Moon
He calls her from a lovely perch,
a tall and sturdy silver birch,

I hope to hear him once come Spring
on his flight his love he bring,
so many songs he knows to sing,
on whippoorwill and tiny wing,
a sweet and soulful little thing,

I close my eyes as I applaud,
his lovely voice entrances me,
& in his voice I'm truly awed,
staring not a choice I see,

Endangered in this place I love,
the whippoorwill, a dearest bird,

Please do your part to save the Earth,
I hope his lovely voice is heard.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Trees
Are poems
That earth writes
For forests

O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”

The luminous sky of velvety red,
hangs high above beyond my bed;
And from the window I can see,
a scarlet rose that wanders free.

It floats along in silent grace,
this captive flower of outer space;
Against the moon its color gleams,
like tiny flecks of summer's schemes.

Yet here we are in autumn's night,
with streaks of golden comets' flight;
Creating such a wondrous scene,
from rosy sky's romantic theme.

A canopy of darkness looms,
erasing brightness from my room;
And gone are streaming rays of red,
which lift my heart above my head.

But in the splendor of the sky,
a flower waits for stars to fly;
Against its silken petals pure,
that weave their magic and allure.

Along a path of flowers there lies,
a gleaming lake that mirrors the skies;
In gentle glow from the sun above,
which lights the lilting waters of love.

We sit and watch each portrait shine,
in the forest green of leaves divine;
While glancing azure in shadows cast,
each sparkling sign from seasons past.

Magnificent in its glorious stream,
the lake will wander like a dream;
In curious images' rise and fall,
which dance to heaven's saintly call.

And then enveloped by the night,
the lake provides a glittering sight;
With translucent sheen it wanders far,
leaving mirrored traces of the stars.

A  group  of  maples
stand  proudly  in  the  village.

A  vivid  deep  scarlet  in  color
truly  magnificent  trees.

Very  pleasing  to  the  eye.
You  have  to  catch  the  moment  though
Sadly  the  beauty  soon  fades.

As  seen  in  October.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

Beautiful forest
Sunlight filters through the trees
Sparkling water on the rocks