The Cabin
Nestled among thickets,
of white frozen earth
columns of smoke rise
to meet the descending gray
canopy of winter.
A warm glow cuts through
the frigid night.
Popping embers
and the smell of hickory
invite comfort to weary souls.
Erected from wood and mud
stands a fortress of earth.
A monument of man
decorating the scars of nature.
Tones of Autumn
Oak and maples
howl with vigor
as a bitter wind
races across the land.
Played like pipes,
the harmonious tones of autumn,
take center stage.
The harvest begins.
It is a time to reap
as well as prepare.
For no one knows
what winter will spare.
One bye one,
no leaf can refrain
each will fall victim
to gravity's claim.
Days grow short
as the sunlight retreats.
Spring and summer
now lie at our feet.
Grinning Moon
Oh grinning moon,
shining high in the sky above.
Ruler of the sea and tides.
Great dictator of love.
Forever a poet's muse,
mysterious you are.
Full, bold and very old,
you own the night by far.
Intellectuals ponder you
You're every mystics guide.
Perched above the blackened land
you're art hanging on the sky.
You spark romantic passions,
with your luminescent glow.
Beast are taken by your beauty,
the lone wolves tell you so.
You bring hope to the dark night
you're every farmers treat.
When you rise in October skies
a bountiful harvest is reaped.
Oh grinning moon, you never change
when nothing stays same.
Long after I return to the dust,
I know you will remain.
Seasons Change
Upon a moonlit Autumn's eve
I watched the fall of Summer's leaves
I felt the coolness in the air
A brisk retreat, from warmth so fair.
Days grow short as time sets back
Ahead we move into the black.
Winter's ice now fills the space
Where a child once swam, with a smiling face.
Youth we seek, when Spring's in bloom,
the scent of grass brings us from our tombs.
A cricket's chirp, a robin's song,
as leaves return, it won't be long.
The summer sun now shines again
at the water hole, where kids jump in.
Seeds take root and fill the earth
Seasons change as life gives birth.
Somewhere Under the Sun
Winding roads paved of gravel and dust,
cut sharply through columns of shade trees.
A most enchanting drive,
the mood was free and alive,
and far from the contempt of man.
Two gangly brick chimneys rose high
like spires, towering over the fertile land.
A welcoming sign,
a pleasure to find
solitude, far from the eyes of man.
A majestic white fortress trimmed in hunter green
stood like a mountain perched on a grassy slope,
boldly decorating the country side.
Songbirds gathered there,
critters chattered there,
as children expended their youth.
Laughter was prevalent,
happiness was evident,
families persisted as one.
This place is no more,
with the close of time's door
my memories now linger,
somewhere under the sun.
The Days of Sunshine
Stagnant Summers of youth
remain undaunted in their passing.
Taunting Man for his fragile mortality,
while reassuring him of their balmy return.
Elders and youth alike, long
for the endless days of sunshine.
At the waterways we gather like insects,
sucking the nectar out of every warm moment.
Through the oppressive heat,
we find ourselves bartering with nature.
Time becomes our debt,
warmth and daylight our luxury.
We lag from exhaustion, limping into Autumn
with our memories exposed.
Ripe for the cool change to collect,
we remit our time watching each leaf fall, one by one.
The Ice storm
Devoid of emotion,
absent of thought.
It moves on the blackness
of night, to wrought.
A creative entity,
born out of winter.
It will mold itself into,
every fence post and splinter.
Charging through the night,
it descends upon the land.
An onslaught of majesty,
the work of angels hands.
Earth turns to glass,
with a blast of frozen fury.
As nature decorates power lines
the streets become our worry.
Hidden among the darkness,
it's grip remains concealed.
Not until morning,
can it truly be revealed.
Beauty to an artist.
Cold death to a fool.
A paradox from heaven.
It's Nature's turn to rule.
Twilight
Between the moonlight and the daylight,
exist a half light.
Hanging with a haunting glow,
scattering shadows to and fro.
Short and sweet it may be,
its life is meek but necessary.
Hypnotic, with its brilliant sway,
transforming night into day.
To view it from a canyon,
or watch it over the sea.
To see it from a mountain top,
high above fields of green.
What a wonder God has given us,
what a vision, what a sight.
if you should wish to see it,
pay attention and you might.
rising every morning,
falling every night.
exist a shadow maker,
the glow we call twilight.
Autumn, Undressed
Bitter winds envelop the bottom lands,
Contrasting hues signal change.
Upper elevations sing to the eyes
through tones of vibrant glory.
We prepare our tables for harvest
as winter shakes the summer out of autumn.
And while we dread the approaching darkness,
Nature undresses the land for sleep.
Crisp, Canadian air flows southward
emitting nasal trickles and bronchial hacks.
The dregs of autumn start their descent,
as summer's sun begins to retreat.
A thick majestic carpet crunches underfoot,
preparing a path for the frozen lion.
We live by night, to our childhood delight,
watching jack o lanterns smile and flicker.
The Old Barn
Proudly she stands on the sorrel brown earth,
A heap of splintered wood and rusted tin.
Above her, naked branches reach for October skies.
Below her, a lazy brook trickles weak, nearly dry.
Bovine graze sparsely on a slope nearby.
Creatures great and small prepare for the cold.
The laughter of children echos from her dusty walls.
Memories lay cluttered in corners covered and tall.
An old red tractor naps in her breezeway,
it's labor finished for another year.
A whole summer's toil dangles upon her twisted beams,
while a plow and wagon lay catching the dregs of spring.
Autumnal winds beat upon her broad sides,
mourning summer, her rusty hinges wail.
Soon, all will fall silent across the sleepy land,
and though naked and freezing, proudly she will stand.
