I step into a soundless world,

swaddled against the chill,

a cup of coffee

cradled in my hands.

Steam drifts upward

to harmonize

with the haze of breath,

creating a gossamer ghost.

 

Silence is broken

as birds trill and call,

singing sentiments;

dull gray mourning,

vivid blue arrogance,

muted gold hope,

vibrant red annoyance;

their colors become them.

 

The wildflowers

have forsaken the field,

burrowing below,

or casting their seed

on chilly bursts of wind.

The garden lies fallow,

a dull swath of nothingness,

its bountiful season left behind.

 

This is the time

for breathtaking trees

to frame the sky,

their beauty, until now,

only understated glory.

In autumn, they emerge

from summer dreams

to strut upon the stage.

 

I am engulfed,

my soul immersed

in stunning shades

and striking color

as carefree leaves

cavort on on the breeze,

while others cling tenaciously

to slumbering limbs.

 

The forest is enchanted,

each tree nestles

the spirit of loved ones

no longer in reach.

Great-aunt Bessie, a towering oak,

good friend Laura, a fiery maple,

frail cousin Mimsy, a delicate birch,

grandpapa John, a mercurial ash.

 

Some might call it

a wood of death

and wonder how I stand it.

I see a grove of reminiscence,

an orchard of remembrance,

a copse of continuity.

It is a comforting promise,

the embodiment of eternity.

Snow fell on Thanksgiving Day,

Brought chilly air to chase away

The last remaining signs of fall

It blew them down, one and all.

 

Leaves are gone, trees stand bare

A different season’s in the air

Wander and wonder, have a close look

Season’s greetings in every nook.

 

Partridge Berry and Wintergreen

Leaves polished to a lustrous sheen

With shiny red baubles tucked in tight

Herald a time of wondrous delight.

 

Pine branches shiver, shake and tend

To whisper music as they bend

Harmonizing, true and clear

Carol of joy for all to hear.

 

Bright winterberry draws my glance

As it does a gleeful dance

Waving arms and tossing head

Decked in Santa’s suit of red.

 

Boughs of balsam hanging low

Silver, green beneath the snow

Reach to touch, a gentle swipe

Holiday scents, lush and ripe.

 

Sun shakes free of clinging clouds

Arrows a beam upon the shrouds

Draped over limbs in pristine white,

Twinkle and glimmer with the light.

 

Brilliant crimson, silvery mien,

Glistening white and luscious green,

Stars shine in this seasonal show,

A forest trimmed in Christmas glow.

 

The northern sky

pulsates

with vivid color,

bringing to mind

tie-dyed

t-shirts

I wore as a child.

Stunning color

splashed across my chest

as if a rainbow

exploded.

 

Full of awe,

you take my hand

as color dances

across the heavens,

and I can’t help

wondering

what you see

as you gaze

at the glory above us

through color-blind

eyes.

 

It’s different

I know,

and try to imagine

what it’s like to

look with your eyes.

Muted colors

flowing across the sky,

a wealth of movement

and change,

a diversity of shifting

shades.

 

We are all

dissimilar,

distinct in our way.

You don’t see

as I do,

nor I, as you.

Perhaps, the

uniqueness

in each of us

is born in our

perception

 

 

Drifting high

in star-tossed sky,

the first full moon of the year.

 

Beaming bright

on frigid night,

with polished, glossy veneer.

 

Painting dark

a great oak’s bark,

creates an ebony spear.

 

Brushing gray

where shadows lay,

a gloomy, ominous smear.

 

Lighting snow

to glacial glow,

douses instinctual fear.

 

Quelling sound

from sky to ground,

deep silence is all I hear.

 

Dusting peace,

it grants release,

pointless worries disappear.

 

Bathing earth,

its carefree mirth,

suffuses my soul with cheer.

 

Gleaming soft,

soaring aloft,

gold-dusted, heavenly sphere.

 

Looking up,

I raise my cup,

to the first full moon this year.

 

 

The sun peeks through the barren trees,

Lights up the dawn, and then it frees

The warbling trills of chickadees,

Nuthatches, robins and towhees,

All joined in harmony to sing,

The forest’s siren song of Spring.

 

I yearn to stroll when spring is nigh,

On twisting paths ‘neath dazzling sky,

As I have done in years gone by,

When legs were strong and body spry.

I’d bid farewell to old Jack Frost,

And welcome friends who’d long been lost.

 

I know exactly what I’d find,

Along those trails that curve and wind,

Renewal of the sweetest kind,

The woods reborn and redesigned;

Emerging color ev’rywhere,

A season born with stunning flair.

 

As if God in his wondrous way,

Has called an end to winter’s fray,

And said to Spring, “Let’s start this day,

With blissful tune and lush bouquet!”

And Spring replied in festive voice,

“All God’s creations now rejoice!”

 

Wildflowers don their church attire,

As birds chirp softly in the choir,

And warm breeze strums a winsome lyre

Upon tree limbs stretched in a spire,

Each draped in budding, misty green,

Against blue skies of satin sheen.

 

I’d walk along without a care,

No goal in mind, except to share,

The wonders of the forest fair,

With God, who’s ever-present there,

Reach out to hold His loving hand,

Give thanks to Him, my woes remand.

 

This year my mind will be the place,

For rambling hikes at steady pace,

I’ll view the season’s changing face,

While held secure in God’s embrace,

He’ll lift my spirits, cradle me,

And set my springtime mem’ries free.