I long for the trees
Sun shade and sweet breeze
Beauty to bring you to your knees

I long for the trails
Made by animals with little tails
With imprints in the dirt from their nails

I long for the streams
and the things that it brings
Little fish, frogs, and other things

I long for the birds
That make their song heard
Cheers and lullabies without any words

I long for the boughs
The bark is comfort now
Like a friend that's always around

Stand me still in swaying grass
on the crest of a smooth esker.
Numb my ears to synthetic noise
so I can embrace the earthly chorus;
Green blades clashing swordlike.
The creak of trees, rooted in the battle.
The flip and twist of a passing bluebottle;
Awkward and disorientated.
Let me breathe deep the same wind
that lends herself to these instruments.
Let me hear the crackle of sun on skin;
The sound of hair electrified,
The thud of chemicals leaping across synapses.

Let me feel truly alive.

This is a tale of a bird and a tree,
All revealed to a poet like me,
Once there stood a broad tall tree,
A bird flew, perched, and looked for tea,
Flew down and foraged in the grass,
A cat appeared, would the bird last?
"Quick, fly back to me..."
whispered the branches of the tree,
Safely landed, high in tree,
Munching little worms for tea,
Friends forever now, you see,
A little tale of a bird and tree........

The anchiant tree bid farewell to its entity
It's chartreuse leaves fell swiftly to the ground
Its roots still holding the corpse earthbound
The exhausted landmark left our reality
And forgot it's dying identity
It did not leave any fruit to be found
It seemed almost no life was life around
The old tree left into eternity
Though there did seem to be something left
The tree, like a pheonix, left a new soul
The young life would make many hearts whole
It would grow to be crowned as the new king
And give the people a new place to sing
And it's years of wisdom would show in rings.

I watched you sow
Seeds of resentment
Before my very eyes

I couldn't move
To dig them up
I was needed in the skies

Years gone by
Forgetful I
Did not remember about seeds

Our forest suffered
All this time
I catered other needs

And now your tree of hate stands tall
Thorned vines I could not tame

And it bears a poison fruit
Venom, nectar
All the same

Why does it keep on growing?
I told sun not to shine

And cloud who watered it so proudly
Did not pass by this time

I took an ax to trunk
But bark was made of tempered steel

I took a torch to branches dry
But flame it would not feel

Roots gripped earth
Vines entwined
As it saw I found
The rivet line

I pulled the thread
Straight through the seams
And released the nightmare
From our dreams

Our forest is now happy
And it's creatures feel the same

But are you gone?
Should I be worried
The next time skies call out my name?

We were young,
patting the upturned earth
around our hopeful oak sapling,
warming it with
hot breath.
I imagined it sprouting, fanning out
overnight to
extraordinary size; but you
just giggled and told
me to be patient.
That one day we'd sit
beneath its shadow together,
humming a secret song.

Today, I returned to
our spot in the weeds.
The sun beat down, glaring
at my single shadow.
Axe in hand, I severed
its mocking spine in two,
working desperately to forget your
piercing, lilting voice-- your
absent footfalls next
to mine.

The wind blows,
The leaves twirl
Drifting through the air.

Nature becomes violent,
Sends a storm
And the leaves are whipped into frenzy

Yet even this is a balance,
For too much evil,
Or kind-spiritedness,

Is not good for anything

The wind blows and the willow bends
Stay strong,
For it will pass soon