Forest Within

Big Dreams, paper collage, 2020

neither is real. the nectar or the god
the eye that plunges us into the storm like 
a bunch of savage, lonely children

the truth is some miracles are dangerous
the totalitarian revolutions of winter
whispers and watercolors
quaint maiden fields
like a prayer for unjustified time
or a mending of secret hands when 

what we’re afraid of, really, is 
the enormity of ourselves
the brevity of a universe beyond streetlights
moths and candles
softly fading from a flame

none of this moves me. 
i am clothed in a sea of deep forest purple
i speak and my lungs eclipse the tide
i speak and i catch the butterflies by surprise
i take flight and the earth is no more 
than a pyramid to remember

every desert is an oracle
every image is an ending

what i’m looking for, really, is 
a beginning beyond trees



Autumn might be my favorite time of year, and I thought this nature poem would be a good place to share some photographs of the places that have been inspiring me lately. From recent hikes and, of course, from the butterfly garden, as I welcomed the last few black swallowtails of the season.

6 thoughts on “Forest Within

  1. À la dernière limite de l’automne, les fleurs d’amandiers chantent le chant du jeune poète: monte, sève, plus vite: ouvre-nous maintenant que c’est encore l’automne. Ainsi, quand ce sera le printemps enfin pour tout le monde il semblera que les autres ont imité l’art de vos pétales. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Merci, Jei. Toutes les créatures fleurissent à leur saison. Je faisais de la randonnée aujourd’hui, en fait. Je me suis arrêté dans un pré pour manger mon déjeuner, le soleil chaud brillait sur mon visage, et je me suis dit: il n’y a jamais eu de moment plus parfait que celui-ci. Et il est également vrai que chaque instant ordinaire peut être parfait comme ça. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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