Flowing like a river deep in the chilly woods,
Runs the heart of a young boy, young in spirit.
One with the land of green and brown,
One with the fruits lying on the ground.

One with the ants running up a tree,
One with the plants sprouting like fleas,

One with the brightness of the moon,
One with the fullness blasting its way through.

One with the meadow, blowing like the sea,
One with the hills, rolling without a plea.

Altogether through and through,
We find the weather,
That makes us brand new.

Winter Night
You know those nights –
The nights no one can get used to,
Yet everyone loves.
Those nights that come so few times a year in North Carolina.
A night when the moon is full –
Looking like a giant wafer,
Just looming in the sky,
Giving you enough light to see your hands,
But, not your shivering numb toes.
A night when the air is so crisp and thin
It breaks through anything you wear.
The wind swaying off and on, adding to the mountain air,
Adding to the pink on your cheeks,
Another layer, bright as a piglet’s tail.
Covering your body up doesn’t matter, the air is coming through,
Daunting you; you wish you were inside.
Until you look around, that is.
Look around at the stillness that is.
The peacefulness that sends your heart and mind into oblivion.
A night when discussing philosophy is below you,
Yet, sitting and simply looking is enough to suffice.
A night when your breath looks like smoke;
The smoke coming from a freshly lit pipe,
Gleaming with the light from a flame –
A flame so brightly heated, nothing can put it out.
Yeah,
One of those nights.