A tree,
A jacaranda tree, once tall, majestic,
Its purple blossoms littering the ground,
Its fern-like leaves bring shade to all around.

The rings,
We count the rings on the stump,
As the lumberjacks drive away,
Leaving stripped branches and leaves to decay.

Years will pass,
As leaves decay, years will pass,
But not all is lost, and as the life fades away,
Something new sprouts up, something here to stay.

Dead father,
It draws life from its long-dead father,
Using its nutrients, being fed,
Life, sprouting out of stump long thought dead.

A shoot,
A growing, flourishing, feeding shoot,
Only one thing that it could be,
A massive, flowering, majestic shading tree.

All this,
From a stump, a remnant of a tree,
Life, sprouting from stump thought dead,
Replacing something very old with something new instead.

A silver pen,
A silver tongue,
A silver lining
Leaves me hung
There to suspend
Above my end.
I’m running
Out of time.
The words I write,
The words they say,
The strings pulled by
The hands of fate
All let me hang
Beyond my grave.
I’m running
Out of time.

The note I left,
The sound of screams
From those below
Who watch me leave
The spot I stood
As falling leaves
Follow me
To the floor.

The loop I made,
The tears they shed,
The rope so frayed
Tore as I bled
Down from my eyes.
Why would I cry,
When this is what I chose?
My destiny unfolds.

It’s too late.

The Lifter,
Up.
He questions,
Up.
He wonders
Why
He lives.
The Lifter,
Down.
The top.
The falls.
The end
Of rope
He pulled.
Grab hold.
Look up.
He sees
The top.
The Lifter,
Twice,
He falls.

The tree burst
with life,its
emerald leaves
aglow, birds
fluttered through
branches, moving to and fro.  
Flowers bloomed brightly
at its sturdy base,  
Adding a splash of colour
to nature’s quiet grace.
But alas all peace has to end
As dark clouds gathered
The wind began to bend...

And you and me are still
Young enough to really live
We are simply melding
Into another season of emotion
The years are just beginning
To gray what they have claimed
And have been allowed to claim

The wind blows away what it can--
What cannot be tied down

Keep whispering
Your soul into my soul
Keep primal scream tears          
Falling into my primal soul

Keep filling up the empty spaces
Keep creating empty spaces

Tearing down the vacant walls
Building up new walls

Opening locked doors
Locking others in turn

As we forever transform together
Under the aegis of the Immortal

As we grow like the roots
Of the banyan tree

Hanging down with the branches
Helping to provide shelter
As we slowly grow closer
To the sweet earth
In silent anticipation
Finally touching
Slowly penetrating
Gently pushing deeper
Until we are of one purpose

Deeply rooted by the banks
Of the Eternal River
That descended from heaven
And flows through
Human spirit transformed

Life-giving water running slow
And deep the source of your whisper--
True essence in deepest longings

Flowing into my source
Pockets of holy energy overflowing
Slowed down to a trickle at times
Going full circle and
                                     Back and forth
From out of reach channels

That something deep beyond
                     The starry masses

That something some call love

That something some call God

That something flowing & living
                                  In me & you.

Oh, is the sweet and delicate embrace; such a tight
and warm hug, but it had smashed my bouquet of flowers.
I picked you out of the bunch; I wandered down a forest trail
brushing with death- a kiss by her lips. And around me, was the
sight of your experienced skins; carpeted with yellow leaves, blessed
by the caressing sun. The cool of your eyes- is a walk by the lagoon,
your warm bud of tears falls into my eyes, and swell it up, to bloom.
The Sun rules over our lives, that Moon quietly covers our pain with
those nights of laughter; the canopy of our dreams, quietly fall away
as like the leaves. My tongue bares roots, and my words do try to promise
flowers- with every saturated thought, shaped out as petals opened wide.
The first time I saw it, I was entirely unaware of what waited below my lows.

To— step out of myself, was the place our story had begun. And to this,
each tree I see around me, reminds me of you- the first tree I as a child,
were brave enough to climb.

Under a temple of sequoia,
I do not fear your ravenous wild
which lives in everything—
flowering desire.

What drives my folly
drips longingly with mad nectar,
finds your mystery alive in my eyes,
mystery coloured in vibrant azalea.

There is no forest, just
deciduous portals to other worlds.

Beneath an outgrowing meadow
of detritus, decay has a lurid scent
of pine that lingers. And your roots

guide my descent into the darkest deep,
a thousand years into the Holocene.

Show me
how to carry this endless dream.
Make me remember where
I am and will always be:

in raindrops streaming
to the understory,

in hollowed trees pulsing rivers
of sun in between,

in conifer transpiring seeds
from branch to leaf,

in earthworms relishing
the sweetness of skin,

in the enduring vision of you
that exists in the marrows
of me.

Maybe in time
touched by waterfalls of memory,
I will return to your world again—
cloaked in dirt and evergreen.

Spring morning,
quiet. One coyote,
three deer
running in snow.

What else have I seen?
A sparrow hawk in mid-air ******
a robin, a sharp-shinned hawk catch
a rabbit in its talons.

A deaf mute in a pear tree.
Not one wolverine
in Utah or Italy.
Nor a famous samurai.

A young black bear
traverses the lawn in August.
Also quarks. Also oaks.
Do not disturb its progress!

A red fox
alert, no limp
flows silently
across the meadow.

First light, green tea.
A person thinking
epochs and eons.
A platoon of chickadees.

What is between schocking red, earthly pink, and plummed purple?

Life. Grass. A trembling leaf. Force of green.