Nature's Voice

Constant is her tone today, filling the background with rushing breath

Playing the branches, wires, eves and vents, creating voices that fill the air

Finding the cracks n crevices n holes, stealing her way inside where she can

Raising plumes of dusty specks in shafts of the powerless winter sunlight

Humming a constant tune, droning on throughout the day, never ending

Rising to an untimed crescendo now and then, trading purrs for growls or roars

Articulating her strength, her power, her omnificence over her kingdom

Scattering the remnants of summer’s death alongside the flotsam of mankind

Only to return to the invariable monotonous near silent eolian hum

Eventually dissipating along with the daylight,

Relieving the anxiety and strain caused by her song,

Turning invisible and silent once again. 

Leftover Thoughts

Just a couple of leftover thoughts taking up space. Spring is near, thought I'd clear out the wintry words in hopes of replacing them with new, vibrant, colorful and warmer musings... 

One Saturday Morning
Golden colors hanging precariously in the cool morning Rays of light have lost their strength, barely warming the air
The stillness broken by flashes of movement and chatter in the dark limbs above,
A smoky flavor drifts on the nearly still autumn dawn.
Hints of white rest in the early morning shadows
Sheets of translucent crystals wrap the fallen leaves masking their colors
Waiting precariously for the warming shafts of light, they will eventually melt away to reform in the cold night air into new designs and patterns.


Flat dull grey skies have suddenly stolen the morning light, The bright sharpness of a new day blurred into a near monochrome,
The air is cold and uninviting…
Block the muted morning with a nest of warm folds and a soft pillow, try to reclaim your last dream if only for a few more moments…

A band of brilliance cuts its way across the room from a break in the curtains, struggling to light the room and bring in the new day,
The blurred shroud of sleep begins to slip away, replaced too quickly by the day’s agenda
The cat rolls over, protected by the folds of the bedding, hiding from the increasing intensity as you're forced to gradually emerge to meet the morning…


Out the front window...
Just stepped outside for a few minutes to watch the display of snow flakes.. something is so intriguing to me about the way mother nature works. The physics of it all I understand, it is the beauty, the aura, the presence that exists surrounding the event. Sure we can pump water through jets and "make" snow... but not nature's crystals...
Beyond that is the quiet, the solitude that seems to accompany them as if to eliminate any distractions and concentrate your perception, your feelings on the fall of the flakes through the crisp cold air.
Taken in small amounts there are no fears, increase the velocity of the wind, the volume of the crystals, the colder temperatures and the power emerges causing some to panic...
Yet I could stand in the onslaught and be simply over whelmed by the power - not fear it but begin to realize how dynamic, how important the event and how miniscule, how small a part I have in the scheme of things... 

Just a thought seeping out

Winter Wind

The rush of the wind engulfs the house, window panes rattle as the invisible assault grows stronger. The last few remnants of summer are sent swirling from now barren branches through the cold air. Ominous shadows of sharp slender fingers dance across the ground beneath the street light as tree limbs tremble in the gusts. Leaves and branches clatter over the roof in the darkness adding to the anxiety of the night.

The sounds outside build in rolling crescendos scattering nature’s debris against the brick and mortar, sounding like a barrage of lethal pellets. And then silence for a few moments until another raucous wave attacks. Over and over it repeats the cycle, seeming to never have an end. Rumbling and reverberating around the house. As you search out the front window it is indistinguishable, unseen as it batters the walls of the structure.

 An air of uneasiness fills the room; apprehension about the strength of your sanctuary grows. The domination, the power seems over whelming. The inability to influence, to affect any change or moderation gives rise to increased trepidation. Forced to listen again and again as it over takes the house. Nowhere to hide? No secure corner?

          Time to pull the comforter close and tight, a shroud of warmth and security that will hopefully see you safely through the blustery night - to meet the dawn as it breaks still and quiet.

Embroidered Crystals

Embroidered crystals pin wheeling their way through the cold night air

Lit by the glow of the street lamp

Eventually finding their way to a resting place

To lie down delicately as their structures entwine forming a blanket of dull white

Then suddenly reflecting the dim light in sharp flecks of icy sparkles

Stepping out beyond the front window to sense their grandeur

Frigid air grabs at your every breath and exposed flesh

But it pales in the presence of the fragile flakes covering the world around you

Hordes of elusive specks blurred by the wind swirl to their destinations

Some to remain to see morning’s light

Others to be gathered up again by the invisible currents and sent sailing away

What grand mechanism, what scheme, what power is responsible?

Humbling to realize the mastery it would take to create this wonder

Each small piece different yet alike in many ways

All fitting into a grand design, a precarious display of strength and invention

Never to be claimed, never to be duplicated, never to be accomplished by man

Embroidered crystals pin wheeling their way through the cold night air….

A cold December walk

Slipping out the front door into the frigid night. Subzero air engulfs me immediately, the cold crisp air against my skin is exhilarating.

The first step onto the blanket of white crystals is announced by a seemingly deafening crunch. It continues throughout my journey along unkempt sidewalks. Suspended only when I stop to survey the small foot prints that cross my path. 

I trace the circular path through the spiky bare branches of dormant shrubs along the walkway then bounding off into the shadows between the darkened houses. 

The trek takes me beneath the bare spider like branches that not so long ago held vibrant greens that shaded the path. Only the sound of my steps break the stillness of the night, the orange-pink blended glow of street lights and flickering holiday strands radiating from porches light the way. 

Giving in to nature’s grip I accelerate from a leisurely stroll, the cold reaching deeper inside. I retrace my path, spotting the feathery tail of a young fox as it disappears into the dark along the way. 

Finally stepping inside the doorway to the musty warmth of home, glad for the comfort but struggling to hold the feelings and visions of nature’s ominous presence.