Monthly Archives: March 2017

Why Do I Love The Trail?

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Why do I love the trail?

My feet falling upon the rocky earth, searching for the white hot blaze that leads to bliss.

I walk the wooded miles, up down all around, the stress washing off,

Each drop of sweat a needed  dose of nothing. Asking for nothing, telling nothing. The silence of the wind as it washes over me.

Why do I love the trail?

The crunch, crunch, crunch of my boots,  one step after the other, guiding me to serenity. Each narrow path, shrouded by oddly shaped green leaves, pine needles and a fine dust being kicked up as I weave in and out of tree roots, exposed by time and the seasons.

Why do I love the trail?

The smell of the woods, snow covered rocks and the cool streams running high after springs wrath. The rain falling through the trees, head raised, collecting each precious drop.

Why do I love the trail?

Because  I can.

 

 

The Day After… (B & W)

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“From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,
A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room
And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up
From your book, saw it the moment it landed. That’s all
There was to it.”-Mark Strand

“The blizzard doesn’t last forever; it just seems so.”-Ray Bradbury

In most of the snowstorms that we get you always have an accumulation of snow on the branches. With this storm, no such evidence exists. The winds last night were crazy!!! Anyway, I took a couple of B & W photos of my backyard this morning after about 15 or so inches of snow.

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The Magic Of A Snowflake

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Indulge in snowy madness with white crystals falling,

Head raised, hexoganal treats on the tongue,

Melting quickly, liquid memories fading,

Isolated and fantastic pleasure found in each flake,

The trail shows a vast wasteland of missed opportunities,

Each one not caught collects on the cold earth,

Desolate and not forgiving, forever lost in the blowing wind,

The  memories gather in peace,  with each fallen flake,

Consoling each other, as one.

 

A Wish For Spring to Arrive!

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“Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge of the blizzard. But once the snow covers the ground, it hushes as still as my heart.” -Laurie Halse Anderson

“A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.”— George R.R. Martin

Sitting in my house watching the snow fall makes me wish for winters quick exit and an even quicker arrival of spring. At the time of this posting we are one foot into possibly two feet of snow!

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Wish

The Nor’easter

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Here in the northeast of the US we are about to get slammed by a Nor’easter this Tuesday and Wednesday. Here is a short piece of rhyming poetry to usher it in:

In a couple of days time a nor’easter will blow,

The weatherman is telling  a tale of woe.

The wind will be whipping and a cold snow will be falling,

The cruel hand of Boreas soon will be calling.

And as much as I love the soft fluffy white,

Two feet of snow is more of a blight.

So as I sit and ponder the storm,

The coming of spring  can’t be the norm, 

But the new season will soon be here, that much is true,

A bright crisp green landscape and fresh air anew.

So look out your window and enjoy winters last breath,

As we move hand in hand celebrating its death.

Post #300

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I’ve written and photographed to two ninety ninety nine,

I’m at the cusp of three hundred on this fun blog of mine.

As I hike and I walk and take pictures galore,

Do I have the stamina for three hundred more?

As long as I breathe and can take a long hike,

It’s my poems and my pictures I hope you’ll still like. 

(I read this to my son and he said “You sound like a hippy Dr. Seuss.”)

Mid March Snow

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“Each solstice is a domain of experience unto itself. At the Summer Solstice, all is green and growing, potential coming into being, the miracle of manifestation painted large on the canvas of awareness. At the Winter Solstice, the wind is cold, trees are bare and all lies in stillness beneath blankets of snow.”

-Gary Zukav

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