The dark eye's of the raven reflect the sunlit morning and thier wings grasp for altitude just when the evolving mists of summer lay quietly against the trees and yet this morning , it has done so as frost and much like a blanket , it tightly wraps itself against everything alive or dead. From the meadows above to the river banks below . And yet , the quiet lay of the land is softly inviting of peace, of serenity , of calm. The obscene chatter of the gathering ravens reminds my of the awakening of a large family , in a farmhouse perhaps , the clanging of the wood stove being lit , and eggs , bacon and the tranquility being served up for breakfast. Walking a dirt road above the village I can see a haze over the little valley town , just as a hundred chimneys drift a misty woodsmoke that trys in vain to melt away at the frost on the trees. Ahead of me in the distant morning the forest line awaits me ........and yet it awaits me with open arms .
For My Living Autumn.......
Maybe it was simply the way that
novembers sun begs to please
As the white birch bark shines from
within ..... a small sunlit tease
Ahh...... the golden light of this day
knows what I need all too well......
Coming from some place unknown....
like a secret waiting to tell
All at once the wind stilled
leaving a softened silent yearning
Making its own request of my time
autumn becomes a lesson for learning
Yes........I will follow this light on towards
the westward skies
And become lost in the fields
of autumns sobering surprise
And because I have memorized
the much invented reason
I can feel the coming winter and
dread the dieing season
So teach me what you will and soon........
I'm running out of time
I am dizzy with the changes of time
are my memories out of rhyme
No matter ......that's perhaps my brightest
blessing as I have aged
I am not trapped by seasons
by time ...I will not be caged