Growth

Looking up from the street at
The base of a large oak fastened to
The hillside by thick roots,
I contemplated the gnarled furrows
Of the oak’s encircling bark
And suddenly realized that
I was experiencing the wonder that is growth.
While it is one thing to cite the adage
That mighty oaks from tiny acorns grow,
It is quite another to confront
This colossus of a tree and wonder
How this could really happen

September

Summer’s promise has fled
But we feast on its remains.
The days are shortening fast
And the sun’s light is slanted.
But while still warm, we know
That soon we will have to scurry
To prepare for what is coming
Like the squirrels do.

What Name Do You Give Those Mountains?

What name do you give those mountains,
That high ridge touching clouds?
Do you call them Green or Blue
Or do you just call them beautiful?
But why even call them that
When they are only mounds of rock
Blocking the sky down low?
Perhaps the answers lie within you
Where ideas of beauty are formed,
From the words of those who loved you
And created your soul’s essence.