There is solace in our garden
With a little bit of cheer
An everlasting paradise
Or maybe you didn't hear

Winter comes around
But we are safe here
With the long lasting tree
The Evergreen one

The warmth of the furnace
And the smell of a meal
Are enough to drive away
Any pests that come too near

Spring eventually arrives
As winter readily leaves
The garden once again
With solace in the air

fear is a tiny seed
planted in my lower belly.
the seed sprouts suddenly,
its roots extending toward my feet.
my thoughts are consumed by the seed,
which grows into a strong, sturdy tree
whose branches wrap around me,
paralyzing my whole being.

My forest
written December 28th, 2020

My forest is the 2 trees
outside my front window

the overstory of my forest
is a prickly ball tree
research says
it is a chestnut or sweetgum tree

the overstory is tall and hearty
giving generous shade in the summer
and raining prickly *****
on the yard in the fall

the understory of my forest
is a dogwood
that blooms gloriously each spring
as it reaches from under the prickly ball tree
for the sun it's greedy sibling hogs

there are forests (and poems)
much more expansive than mine
built more complexly
more often talked about
photographed, written about

but this little 2 tree forest
has been my company
for 20 years now

they are my trees (and my words)
and they are precious to me.

Prickles of the pine
it's reindeer time
across the moon at night
like fireflies in flight
buzzing little beez
elves in Christmas trees
Santa's gift to us,
kids happiness and love.

drawing open the curtains
he pleasantly finds
in the bright sunshine
the maple he planted years ago
dressed in splendid green
still stands *****

the world is alive
and well

Bitter cold
no flames of war
can warm

Shielding an old man
from the streaming bullets
the dying tree
watches with pity
a dying man
chop down
one of its blackened limbs
stagger
and drag it
into another ash dark night

You                          can't
    I       see                   why   is
   everything so            fuzzy  unclear
murky  disassociated       branching       reaching out
far beyond what we         I can see       way beyond the sky
reaching out                     far out                   way out
we can't seem                    sense cannot         be made
fuzzy, disassociated   murky, I'm not sure, but maybe
just maybe there is a chance that it will all pull
    together and the pieces will come in place
      to form a beautiful picture. Some things
        Well some things just aren't clear from
            far away, high up, way beyond.
             You may even not be able to
                make sense of your life.
                     But if you keep
                     waiting on life,
                      life will keep
                     waiting on you.
                      It will all be
                     standing still.
                     Standing up.
                     Like a tall tree
                     trunk, bark and
                      all that lies
                     within the grasp
                     of the branches.
                 Stop for a second and
              Stand back, take a look at
             All that lies before you in its
       Beauty   Wonder  Awesome   Power