“My Path in the Woods”

"Mountains made of glass and steel Glistening in the bright warm sun Frame the shallow valley of streets Though which rivers of black asphalt run Forests of electric and telephone poles Entangled..."

"The old poet spends each evening Sitting on the front porch swing Swaying gently to and fro Constant rhythmic motion Followed by brief pauses As if composing one last poem His hands crippled by arthri..."

"The passion of a poet Burns brighter than a flame The flame has no heart At least none it can name The love of a poet Grows higher than the sky For the sky has a limit And raindrop tears to cry The ..."

"I may live a thousand lifetimesPerhaps I’ll live a thousand moreBut this love we have togetherI’ve known some time beforeTime wears dark glassesThrough which I can not seeYet in my heart I still knowT..."

"Amidst the tangle of trumpet vines,Young saplings and half rotted stumpsWhere buffalo grass is near head highAn old stone foundation silently restsIt bore the full weight for many yearsAn unpainted wo..."

"I feel the zephyr’s breath warm and gentle upon my back The sun breaking beyond the clouds Golden fingers reaching towards the ground as I reach up to embrace the morning sunrise Knowing that soon her..."