The fangs of winter,
Thought to be in the shadows,
Reawaken with
A cold cruelty, preying on
The weak and unsuspecting
A Return To Winter
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Monthly Archives: February 2017
Jase Enjoying the Day
“The more people I meet, the more I like my labrador.”
-Unknown
“We give dogs time we can spare, space we can spare and love we can spare. In return, dogs give us their all. It’s the best deal man has ever made.”
– M. Ackklam
“The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his tail instead of his tongue.”
– Unknown
Yes, my daughter plays hockey…
“A good hockey player plays where the puck is. A great hockey player plays where the puck is going to be.”
A Warm Sunrise
“This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”
A Warm February Day
“If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”
-Percy Bysshe Shelley
Rhythmic
A rhythmic poem should be measured,
If it is the words will be treasured,
As you weave through each stanza,
A linguistic bonanza,
I hope you will read this for pleasure.
Early Spring?
A misty morning last year on the trail.
Springs awakening,
Mist covered path provides me
With solace and peace,
Quiet days speak the loudest,
Each day its own beginning
My Hideout-The Trail
When I walk into the woods,
I feel the comforting embrace of the trail,
Each step wrapping me tighter in the cloak of its essence,
Like a mother swaddling a newborn,
The cloak reaffirms the journey,
Drowning each sorrow with the promise of tomorrow,
The trail my refuge, my hideout,
The woods calling out, offering nothing but safe passage,
Thoughts of the empty miles ahead, filled with the scent of Spring,
Trees swaying in a calming cadence that help me navigate
Each winding trail as if it were my own,
The woods, my refuge, my hideout.
Transition to Spring
Cold winter nights, fresh snow softly falling,
Thoughts of warmer days with a pack on my back,
Moving silently through the woods, boots kicking up dirt.
Newly released from winters grasp, each step a promise,
A promise of longer days and peaceful nights that bring
The mesmerizing rush of spring streams and the crack of dead
Winter limbs. As the woods open their arms and embrace each soul
As its own, we long for the simple touch of springs sweet caress.
Hiking The A.T.
I seek fellowship
On the white blazes of life.
Quiet steps blurred
By the shadows of hikers
Marching on the open path,
Seeking answers to
Everything, finding inner
Peace on the worn earth,
Each step a reminder of
A fomer life left behind
The Zen Hiker 