On Druid Time

There are stone circles from ancient times
on famous hilltops in misty climes.
But not in my backyard
although I see the honey bee
perform its timeless rites
and I invite the birds to my trees
and the feeders hanging there.

I take the time to share
the dappled shade with
any that would pass by
and keep company with the squirrels,
the deer, and all manner of creatures
while giving thanks for the sun.
So faithful in its rising
and the exquisite timing
of its daily setting,
it gives me the best hours to work
and a most welcome time
of rest.

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Mornings to Midnights

 

I like quiet in the house,
like church before the service,
Or the deep woods on a day
with no wind to make the leaves
chatter like children at play.
After the night
I start my day
thinking about my dreams
and directing a stream
of chaos into a plan
for the next steps
that will take me to nightfall
once again.
I count it worth considering
that a dream
might contain my voice
and hold my attention.
But know that I might turn away
at any time that I hear
the chickadee’s concerto
or am captured
by one perfect petal
cast down on the lawn
by an impatient tree
that must make room
for its cloak of green
to suit the Summer sun. time
waits in the wings
not caring where I go
but seeing that
I return to sit
on my moss-covered wall
where time stops
but silence moves
the day closer to its end.
It writes a play I perform
in my dreams
as sleep lifts the curtain
on another world.

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The View From The Beginning

 

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