‘Slowly Melting Snowy Vistas’


An idea,

a visual reminder

to help find footing

rather than wallow

in what might feel lost,

our lives precious,

imagine only

nature is a cycle

eternal while forever.


Once while in wonder

reminded by favor

a slow descent in time

while all around

lives experience

a monotony of time

wishing purpose

witness a warming

allows our lives

to know change

always a measure

the melting horizon

might we seek

a cleansing challenge.


When the dial

shall evolve

daylight turns to

a mysterious shroud

where our eyes

opaque shadows

awaits our return

only to discover

with the rising sun

earth has begun

a new journey

again, spectacular

beyond occasion

this is our next day,

a blossoming spring.


Purposeful vistas

do slip away,

only to offer

sweet reminders

how along the way

our lives interact

in as magical way

might the landscape

of this mortality

give reason we

can know

the familiar

as well

as confusion

in a continuum

we have not

lost our way.




A Canyon Rite of Passage

the reality of time

outtakes and fantasy

easy climbs sheer cliffs

human mortality

tested in a tourist

manner of conceit.


One afternoon,

a quiet gentleman

decided his time

an essential promise

reached its end

how easy the edge.


Standing alone

he imagined

just how far

might be the land

would they even know

those that had …


A silent reckoning

No one would speak

again of the torturous

nature of losing hope,

and instead,



He walked away

head held high.

Recalling Purpose


Took a walk in the wilderness,

a forest to disappear in,

looked about me at all the pine,

the desert soil allows

eyes to drift as far as the edge

a world beyond me I’m told to




I’m here to be a sightseer,

to breathe in the mountain

air that raises my spirits

beyond the normalcy

far enough away

to help me perhaps




Tomorrow I will look upon

a landscape that stretches

the eye to forever,

a spiritual energy

so beyond personal recall,

meant to help us all




When soon our lives return

the better option

might be to find something

new. A purpose suggests

our lives have meaning,

we have a world we easily




Glance at the morning sky, the mellow

sound of birds in rainfall, we can never



Taking A Walk

a walk in the woods

quiet serene streamed light

we listen to silence

rustling breeze

we can hear the sound

begin from across the lake,

until in our world, we sense the true

nature of a forest,

maple, pine, birch,

a history of love in recluse

taking a walk

one day I realize

we are all the same

when climbing our trails

Walk With Me

A ride through hell

night sky invisible

the mind on fire

a slow reckoning.


When inside a dream

we might walk alone

finding only silence

her differed mystique.


Life happens so bold

is this all there is

again and again

the reputation of love.


Tight spaces and weight

the sort of ride we fear

nowhere to go

miles beyond our comfort


zone, that place we know

subtle glance vanish

her heart his tears

wondering just how when.


Might without an ask

realize this is forever,

though hope again,

a reminder of nostalgia.


Step across that threshold,

the battered soul will

always remind always

the surface far and away.


Walk with me he said,

she gave a glance,

his favorite moment

her eyes rolling in smile.


If two people might

move beyond the status

quo to appreciate real

love, certain passion.


When last we spoke,

an icy crest had shadowed

what once was a fire

felt with the scope of time.


Oh to have that energy

Speak desire, our synergy

When Walking in the Wood

I noticed tonight,

a deeper darkness

filling the mysterious quiet

of the wood, a forest of our mind.


We choose now today to be afraid,

we could walk freely

when in the stone castles

a moat our greatest fear.


Oh certain there were evil

lurking inside the shallows,

yet vulnerable as we might

have been, then it was so rare.


Today, and every day now,

it is not simply the forest life

watching our every move,

yet it is a jungle of lost humanity.


Such is a definitive cry of woe

to know our lives in a technical

brainwash of social embrace,

we forget a silent walk when alone.


Oh to know that forest of old

a place whereby our lives so bold.

Watching The Snowy Night Sky

I’ve been waiting all day for the snow,

now I glance my window,

it arrives with a light affection

reminds me of my childhood

perhaps a memory that haunts me more than love

the delight of family,

the anticipation of a gathering,

the death of a cousin,

where in my silent fog of misunderstanding,

I watched the burial of a loved one,

while treetops echoed the reminder of snowy limbs,

the sort of day we might play,

but instead we watched a passing of life,

confusion, anger, loss, and tears were rife

on this day I watched my cousin laid into the wintry earth.


So tonight, I watch the sky again,

a quiet reminder of how our lives

are sweet in their ties to memory,

of love, of pain, of the loss all so bittersweet.


The snows are beautiful though ever so brief