Archive for the 'Poetry' Category


October Road

A warm autumn breeze



the brightly colored leaves

to release their

tenuous grasp

and drift silently

to the ground.


Unknown Road


I walk along the

Dusty, gravel road

With my dog leading the way.

He doesn’t know where

He is going, but he’s

Anxious to get there

Just the same.

We turn off onto

An unknown road

Not knowing where

It will lead,

So I just keep walking,

And eventually

I’ll find out.

All is calm, silent,

Not even a breeze

Stirs the air.

The only sounds I hear

Are the birds singing,

Calling to one another

From among the trees.

As I walk along

Through the sunlight

And shadows,

I feel I’m

In another world;

One so far removed

From my usual, hectic pace.

The farther I walk,

The more I wish

I would never have to

Turn around and go back

To that way of life,

And just to spend my days

Walking down unknown roads,

If only to see where they lead.


Vintage Tuesday

This is a wonderful old tractor that sits in a small clearing in the woods behind our house.  There was an old homestead there many years ago.  The house and barn are both gone now and all that remains is this old tractor, a cream separator that sits next to it and an old manure spreader.  The people who own this land are my neighbors about 1/4 mile down the road from us, and it was the husbands parents who originally lived on the homestead.  When they were doing some cleaning up back there, they moved the tractor out of the way and pushed it off to the side.  Well, as luck would have it, they pushed it right into a patch of Daylilies, (much to my delight) because this makes for a great picture.  I like this old tractor so much that I was inspired to write a poem about it, which I will include in this post.  I also have pics of it in all 4 seasons, but I’ll save those for another post.


I leave the heat

Of the day behind

As I enter the cool

Shade of the woods.

The thick, green foliage

Allows an occasional

Shaft of golden sunlight

To break through and

Dance upon my skin.

The sun slowly descends

In the western sky,

Not a cloud in sight.

Here among the trees

It is another world;

A bit of heaven

All around.

I pass, once again,

A large toad, heavily

Hopping out of my way.

He must live near here,

For I disturb him

Every time I pass.

I pause to admire

An ancient tractor.

Its tires are gone

And its motor is probably

Rusted up tight.

It has a past, a history,

But has long since

Outlived its usefulness,

And now rests contentedly

Amid a patch of wild daylilies

As the days and seasons pass.

I throw stick after stick

For the dog to fetch.

He chases each one

With enthusiasm,

Though each time

His tongue hangs

Longer as he tires.

We walk on a crackly

Carpet of needles.

Through the dark stand of pines,

Their branches so thick

That nothing grows

Beneath them except moss.

The field where I

snowshoe in the winter,

once an expanse of pure white,

is now a brilliant, lush green.

My dog seems to appreciate

These daily ventures

Into this other world

As much as I do,

Though maybe for

Different reasons,

Or maybe for the same.

I see a flash

Of brown and white

As a whitetail deer

Beats a hasty,

Though quiet retreat

From the human and

Canine intruders.

She doesn’t care much

For our kind, and wants

Nothing to do with us.

On the way home,

I let the dog lead

And choose our route.

He stops and looks

At me questioningly,

As if seeking approval.

I tell him whichever

way he chooses

is fine with me,

for any path that

leads us home

is a good one.


Voices Of Angels


Pine needles and moss cushion each step

as I approach the river’s edge.

The wind sighs through the trees

and whispers a greeting,

like an old friend,

welcoming me back for a visit.

It invites me to come, sit and relax,

and shed my worries into the water

and let them float away

as if plucked from my mind

by the very hand of God.

It is here, in this cathedral

of pines, hemlocks and cedars

that I come to meditate

and reflect.

It is here that the birds sing

with the voices of angels.

I sit on a large, flat rock beside the river,

watching the current flow and

swirl away before me.

The water, as it splashes over the rocks,

sounds like laughter to me,

and I smile to myself.

My parents used to come here in their youth,

to this very same spot,

before they were married,

before they had children,

before life got so big and complicated,

and these simple pleasures were forgotten.

I often look at the pictures

they took of each other back in 1958.

Their faces radiate such joy,

because it didn’t matter

where they were, as long as

they were together,

and I wonder if, years later,

in the midst of a busy day

filled with responsibilities,

they ever paused in their duties

and let their minds drift back

to those simple, carefree days.

I wonder if, perhaps, they sat

on this very same rock

and watched the river flow by

and planned their future together,

smiling at the sound of laughter

and the voices of angels.


Sunrise, Tuesday morning


There’s a lot to be said

For solitude;

Time spent alone with

Your thoughts,

Sequestered from the rest of

The world.

I consider it time

Well spent

And an absolute


Time to sort out your


Time to work through your


Time to let your imagination

Run free.

Time to be quiet, still and

At peace.


One Single Impression: Melody


Daylight waning,
Shadows falling.
Moon is rising,
Night winds calling.

Time drifts by
On silken wings,
Far and low
A song it sings.

It sings of love
And letters sent,
It sings of loss
And years misspent.

It sings of birth
As life begins,
It mourns as death,
Our journey ends.

It sings the melody
Of our lives
And sometimes makes us
Wonder why

We didn’t, when we
Had the chance,
Change the notes,
The refrain perhaps.

The past is gone,
It can’t be changed;
Look forward now
With knowledge gained.

Listen close in the
Hushed, still night
To the song of time
On its endless flight.


Shades Of Amber


Warm southern breeze

Stirs the air.

Last years leaves crackle

Beneath my feet,

Waiting to be covered

By summer’s jade.

Gentle rain

Nourishes the earth,

Encouraging the start

Of new life.

Trees begin to bud

And wildflowers bloom.

The setting sun bathes the world

In shades of amber.

It warms my soul

And eases my troubled mind

As I walk along

The mossy path.

Twilight settles silently

Over the hushed, tranquil woods.

Mighty white pines stand guard

Against the night.

A crescent moon shines through the trees

Upon the peaceful, flowing river.

February 2020
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