Zephyrs blow o’er the meadows bright
As flowers dance to my delight
Sweet serenades from birds on high
Float to my ears, on grass I lie
Babbling brooks soft harmony add
I smile for this all makes me glad
Picnics spread their checkered banner
Fill the air with friendly banter
Rabbits do their hop-freeze-hop dance
And squirrels in acrobatics glance
At all us merrymakers spread
Below with all our jam and bread
The springtime at long last is here
This season is to me most dear

New photons scatter through the sky
Refractions enter in my eye
The planet turns on axis high
And I see now a bright sunrise

Mountain winds sigh
Mountain winds caress my face,
Hug me in a fond embrace
Pine their needles wave a greeting that is ancient, timeless, now
Lake of liquid sky ripples near my feet,
Waves of past, future in the present meet

Mountain winds breath
Standing tall against the skies,
Mountains, alpine rulers, rise
Clothed with cloaks of aspen, pine, and jeweled with snows and river flows,
And crowned with diadems of wisp-spun cloud
While birds their piquant trills and whistles sound

Mountain winds roar
Rain itself flings to the ground,
Light and sound clash round and round
Huddled under thrashing boughs, I cower, exult, in the cry
Of earth and sky and wood together torn,
The trees and stones by wild west wind are worn

Mountain winds whisper
Water droplets on the grass
Bend the blades like arcs of glass
Fragrance of new rain and dirt, pine resinous and flowers wild
This is but my dream, my homeward yearning,
Of the mountain winds’ great endless churning

darkness

silence

stillness

motion in waiting
waiting in motion

that which has come had already occurred

all of nothing is one of everything
that which is not, is

the broken circle is whole

that which is, is not
everything at once is nothing at all

that which is yet to come will occur again

motion is waiting
waiting is motion

movement

sound

light

This autumnal heart of mine
Yearns for days of cooler clime
Branches, black, through white mist peer
Grasp at their last leaves, so dear,
Flaming fading life of summertime

Biting frozen morning air
Fills my nose, I long for where
Sunrise fogs in gold streaks lay,
O’er frosty dew, circles fay
Spiders’ diamond webs my soul ensnare

Frosted breath and sweater sleeves
The dry smell of fallen leaves
Winding mazes through the corn
Scarecrow faces, so forlorn
Find in twilight equinox reprieves

Smell of wood smoke, festive spice
Jolly pumpkins’ flick’ring eyes
Misty mountains, moonlit trees
Crisp crack crunch of fallen leaves
I feel most alive as the year dies

Deep in one late midnight's sleepless dream
That, while truly finite, endless seemed
Wandered I into a tree-ringed field
Where to me this odd scene was revealed

Between the trees, much like crystal glass
There was frozen water on the grass
Then transformed before my very eyes
Snow turned to cloud, and began to rise

The clouds puffed up, and let out a wail
And me, with rain, hail, began to flail
Shelter, found I, with a massive tree
From the vengeful maelstrom to be free

There I found, alone among the wild,
Was a very melancholy child
He told me stories that, once, were glad
Which he twisted, and made rather sad

When at last the rain had gone away
He then turned to go, without a wave
But gave me, with sympathetic sigh,
A fortune, that things would go awry

Ventured I, into the grass, so wet
Yellow boots spaloosing every step
Diamonds fallen from the sun did shine
Now the meadow seemed so very fine

Little rainbow fish swam to and fro
And a frog had found a boat to row
Songbirds tweeted from their twiggy beds
Smells of grass and rain filled up my head

Then I realized that he had been right
Even though the world did shine so bright
My boots had vanished, gone, from my feet
Which then made my toes so cold, I eeked

I awoke then with a mighty start
Great enough to nearly burst my heart
Then I found the flood around my toes
That, out of my wine glass, had arose

There once was a hedgehog who sang the blues,
And every day he'd sing his lonely tunes.
I asked him if he'd sing a happy song,
But he said not since he'd been wronged
By a certain red-hatted gnome
Who had driven him from his home.

That bad gnome, you see, had stolen his dreams,
And absconded with a mistress of seams.
With this seamstress the hedgehog had fallen in love
After she had sewn him some quite dashing gloves.
And while they then had a nice picnic,
In the rose garden, a place thought quite chic,
The gnome had more money
So she called him honey.

Then off they did roam, the seamstress and gnome,
Around the world, calling all places home.
The hedgehog ran off away from that place
Hoping to never again see Gnome's face.
But sadly Gnome found a job on TV
And every day he the hedgehog would see.

All this the hedgehog told me that night
As he sang in the pale moonlight.

Later that week I was back in that place
Where I found him with a smile on his face.
I asked him why he was so full of cheer.
And he told me that the seamstress was near.
She had left the gnome who was a rascal.
She had found with him naught but a fiasco.
From the hedgehog she had run,
But now to him she had come.
For she knew he did love her,
And he would be her lover.

Thus ends this story of seams and true love.
They lived ever after making their gloves.