Happy Easter

Clad all in purple, ruffled dragon

Calypso orchid shy in the forest

Merry thy grow loveliest flower

Bring joy to our quest.

Grace upon the air

Sky dragon soar in a young blue sky

Tilt the wind to your wings

Merry the blue where you dance on high.

Blue are the dreams of freedom

Of the sun-touched joy of flight

Of the ocean that ripples wide in the breeze

Of the soul of the ocean day and night.

The salt breeze has wandered into shadow

Where hyacinth bloom by fox-fire glow

The same hue cast as the phosphorescence

That the wind of late did know.

Blazing in petals lit by the dawning sun

Fires of youth unfurl blossoms and leaves

Ever towards light and new beginnings

The fire of Spring does cleave!

Eagle's Journey

From the dark of the night to which we are born

That envelops and conceals as the hours grow long

To the pale blue of dawn as light casts forth its veils

In layers of color across the land,

From his perch in the great firs of age and strength

An eagle ruffles his feathers and takes flight

Stretching his wings in the fresh breeze of morning

Swooping between shadow and light,

Up past the mountains and into the sky

Into the clouds that gather and transform

Shifting phenomena of water drops that gather

Into a burgeoning storm,

And the winds band together and twisted howl

Churning the clouds and the currents in the sky

Throwing hail and sleet and rain in the muddling mist

Through which the eagle does fly,

Battered and tumbled and indubitably ruffled

Sodden and soaked with chill in the hollows of his bones

Buffeted by the storm he nonetheless perseveres

In the sky that has ever been his home,

When the storm has passed and the winds’ flow untangled

The eagle spirals down towards the mountains far below

Towards a gleaming turquoise lake that rose to lap the valleys

While the thunder roared in the lightning’s glow,

There are glints in the lake: silver flashes in the depths

The eagle tucks his wings in and dives

Through the sparkling surface gay and bright

Towards that for which he strives,

As light is scattered away the blue is deeper and darker

Til the color has given way to eternal night within the depths

Touched by the blood of fish and feather of the eagle

All on a single breath,

Up the eagle rises leaving the cold peace of the lake’s dark

For the joy of air and warm sunshine and the tumultuous sky

Beating his wings against the water from darkness into light

Hoisting his goal up high,

Upon a sturdy fir bough on a lake’s lately sunny shore

The eagle feasts on fish and surveys the mountain vale

And the pure blue sky with its white puffs of clouds

Realms of water and air in which he doth prevail.

Dark Cliffs

Gray is the stone of the cliffs

That rise from sands black

Shining grains of obsidian

Polished by the tides,

Grim and imposing cliffs loom

Casting shadows upon the shore

A veil of dark over a beach of black

And the dark waves that crash there on,

Proud the cliffs stand tall

Against the railing wind

Strength born of the ocean’s wide fetch

They deflect screaming toward the sky,

Craggy, scarred, and stalwart cliffs

Battered by the ocean’s might

Pummeled by the wind’s fury

Worn by aged time.

Grandfather's 80th Birthday

Happy 80^th birthday Grandpa!

Elder Cedar

In the heart of the forest is the cedar that grows

Through canopies, through drought and rain, through time itself

Of merry birds and upfronted squirrels, of forest cats and silent owls, knows

Shelters them in fragrant boughs, cradles them in bark soft

Within the guard of scratching scales green and smooth

A dragon's defense on the tree of life that snatches the beams of sun aloft

To infuse the forest with the sun's gay energy and life

Holding up ferns and mosses to the sky

With green and gray, furred and feathered, is rife

The cedar proud and strong in the heart of the forest,

Majestic swooping bough tips brush the leaders of the young

Who sprout with youthful fever from the form of cedars past

Those of whom the wailing wind in the trees has sung

In the memory of the wind ever may they last

Even as their accumulated elements of the forest

Are dispersed among the new generation

Absorbed into the future as it rises

And begins its own accumulation.

Green in the Forest

Vibrant green are the trunks in moss sweaters

Of the graceful maples trees

That arise from the forest floor to support the peace

Found within the green shade of a deciduous canopy,

Soft green frills of ferns festooning the boughs

Ruffle gaily on the sunward side

Merry adornment the seasons round

On the big leaf maple bide,

Upon these trees the upfronted squirrels

Chatter without surcease

And raindrops are held in abeyance

Waiting for release,

In winter time the sun will shine

Gilding all its rays can reach

Golden green where tis seldom seen

Where in summer the canopy grows un-breached,

Shafts of sunlight show winter mist

Among the cedars evergreen

The magic of a photon's journey

When its life is quick and keen,

Eight minutes out from the Sun to Earth

Where its life goes to excite electrons

In a chlorophyll filled leaf

Unless green is the nature of the photon,

Green photons rebound, reflect

To where its fellows in profusion churn

Coloring the forest its famous hue

Where the leaves have yet to turn,

Green are the photons of the forest

The photons that catch the eye

Tis green cones that signal our mind

When in forests we spy,

Cool green are the ginger leaves

The hearts beside the stream

Lightly fragrant the water cleansed air

Where we come to dream.

12th Day of Yule 2017 CE

An Afternoon on Hurricane Ridge

Sweet is the taste of alpine fir

Crisp with the crunch of ice

Fluffy the gray jay and raven

And unsolicited advice,

Bright are the rainbow sparkles

In a golden shaft of light

Cast by scattered snow

Crystals that were never white,

Proud is the wind that sweeps

Over ridges and meadows steep

Sculptor of tree and snow

The secrets of its art it keeps.

11th Day of Yule

Fire in Winter

Sweet is the scent of candles

Warm the dance of the flame

Quiet the burn of fire

A flickering long-wave refrain,

Vibrant the heat of the wood stove

A cook fire bound in metal

Warming the hands and building

Snapping as logs settle,

Cold is the light of the stars

Sharp and pale in the sky

With yearning we watch them blaze

And wish with their numbers to fly,

Pale is the morning sunlight

Rich gold in the afternoon

It warms the passing days

And marks time by shadows and moon.

10th Day of Yule

Winter Tempers

Arctic is the breath

Of the winter storm

Polar is the touch

Of December clouds

Soon shall the winter

Give way to spring

Though the winter stretches on

As the months will turn.

Shy is the snow

By a temperate sea

Light is its hold

On the land

Bold is the wind

On the mountains

Where it scours and sculpts

With a fearless hand.