The press of the snow
Bent and broke the bamboo stalks
With hardly a sound

Sound of scratching nails
As squirrels race around a tree
Early light steals in

I came at first to feel some dread
When eagle wings rushed near my head
His haste forced him to drop his prey
Then move to branches overhead

I thought for sure he’d come my way
To find the prey he’d dropped that day
But no bird came, the prey was lost
And left for game to haul away

The next day came a heavy frost
The shallow creek could now be crossed
The snow clouds pushed their blackness in
Some broken trees an added cost

When snowfall starts and calm begins
I hear some chatter on the wind
An eagle family settling in
An eagle family settling in

Some call it bi-polar
I prefer manic-depression
It fits us better with adequate expression
We live our life in swooping loops
We strive at our peak then it droops
And the doleful drudge is destitute
Until all progress stops and stoops
To a halt, face down in mud and roots

And then we rise
Called back to life by a guiding light held deep inside
Sorely self-aware, we work until we burst
Droll desperation, at our best when at our worst
"Wow you got your **** together you lost and soulless ruffian."
Then we hit our peak and it all starts back up again

Pale lit forest limbs
Like brush strokes from a palette
Wiped clean by moonlight.

The camp fire contorts
In a surprise morning wind.
Storm clouds mask the moon.

Translucent green leaves
Ripple with windblown shadows.
Stone steps lead nowhere.