The crow on the branch, a sidewards glance,
Each winters morning, a hypnotic trance.
With a backdrop of grey, wind whipping each tree,
Each furtive glimpse, tranquility….
The Crow
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Tag Archives: poetry
Spring Hiking is Near (I Hope)
As I sit at work and think of spring,
The warmer days and the hikes it will bring,
I dream of the trail and not of the cold,
Leaves on the trees, a scene to behold,
I know that day will be here, no time to lament,
Of harsh winter nights, awaitng springs soft sweet scent.
A Return To Winter
The fangs of winter,
Thought to be in the shadows,
Reawaken with
A cold cruelty, preying on
The weak and unsuspecting
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
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
Starburst Gum-Wow!
Starburst gum, heaven,
Liquid gold slides on my tongue.
Strawberry goo makes
Me swoon, orgasmic frenzy,
Instant moment of pleasure
A Deep Breath
A deep cleansing breath,
Inhalation provides a
Brand new beginning
Expectation
Expectation seen,
The future is open and
Reality has
Put its thunderous foot down,
Marking the false impression
And false promise of
What might be, intended for
Consumption by the
Veiled eyes of tomorrow,
Peeling away the sorrow
The Zen Hiker 