Stillness at Lonesome Lake

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It has been quiet,

Without the sound of your voice,

Your guiding footsteps.

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I have stopped searching,

In the wake of your absence,

Hoping you’ll guide me.

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Something like moving,

The way that the wind blows me,

Hoping for your hand –

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Walking with closed eyes,

I have opened my whole soul –

Show me the trail.

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Just beyond the clouds,

I know you are both resting,

Waiting at the summit.

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Life’s great mysteries,

Impossible to explain,

Are behind me now.

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Fathers and brothers,

Warriors in the heavens,

Are blazing my trail.20170528_135331

Porcelain flowers,

Brushing gently against me,

Keep my promises.

Renewal on Red Hill

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Fresh blueberry brush,

And delicate flowers,

Born in the soft spring…

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Welcoming blue skies,

Wanting us to know, boldly,

Of tomorrow’s hopes.

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Yesterday’s sorrows,

Rolling in heavens away,

Diminish on high.

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The world is still safe.

Fresh, open and beautiful.

The sun will still shine.

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Delicate flowers,

Shaking with Spring’s purity,

Unfold to the world.

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When once we had thought,

We were buried in the frost;

Only in passing –

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The flowers – the bridge –

The marker on the trail,

Toward peace of mind.

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I want to reach out,

Letting go as unfurled bark,

Kissing the Spring wind.

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Life is everywhere,

Birches flush with rich green leaves,

Branches bursting forth –

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Life clings to tree trunks,

Huddling against the odds,

Brilliantly stable.

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Small signs will show you,

When you least expect them to,

Paths to Happiness.

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Holding out my hand,

Widely in the forest air,

Waiting for a friend –

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Rivers come and go;

Late May rain is letting up,

I hear sweet stillness.

 

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My Spring heart rushes,

Tumbling forward to you,

My sweetest of friends –

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I know I’m ready,

For soothing summer sunbeams,

Laughter and warm smiles.

Winter Persists on Mt. Cardigan

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Seeking approval,

A subtle nod to the left,

Over cracking snow.

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Spring still on our minds,

We remembered when yellow,

Was bright like the sun.

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But buried and still,

All our snow-covered secrets,

Would rather stay wild.

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Blanketed forest,

In luxurious, soft white,

Whispered our story –

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“They were once so small,

Then in a moment they grew –

Destined for sunsets.”

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We wanted so much,

To float above the treeline,

The rest of our lives.

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Our bodies come down,

Our hearts stay in the alpine,

Waltzing in gardens.

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I don’t want to leave,

Though the winds drive me closer,

To places unknown.

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But my only hope,

Passing with you before us,

Gives me courage still.

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On the horizen,

Squalls threaten our solitude,

With hail and wind gusts.

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One last moment then,

Scrambling to the summit,

Racing against time.

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Lifting off the rocks,

Touched with cold euphoria,

Cardigan’s summit.

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Just to say goodbye,

After knowing your whole life,

Is always enough.

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All that matters now,

And all that ever mattered,

Is our weathered love.

Foothills of Lafayette and Cannon

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The woods were silent,

Heavy with the fallen snow,

Pale from sad tidings.

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When no strength remains,

Yet we are faced with walking,

Under broken trees…

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Not a single birch,

Could face the whipping winter,

or the mortal cold.

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In deep snow chasms,

Rushing as icy water,

Where are you, brother?

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I know we were meant,

To grow older together,

Like holiday firs.

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Frozen teardrops hang,

At the base of every branch,

In your memory.

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Entire mountains,

Brought to their knees before us,

Mourning this loss.

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I have to believe,

That somewhere deep underneath,

There can still be joy.

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Looking towards the ridge,

Waiting for some kind of sign,

Wanting for answers.

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I still hear your voice,

Calling out to me faintly,

When it is quiet.

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Reaching an impasse,

My heart takes the blow again,

Agonizing time.

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Sometimes no matter,

Wanting or pleading or quiet,

We will have to wait.

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Only memories,

Cherished, painful and fleeting,

Roll in and roll out.

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I watched a sunrise,

Once burn away a dense fog,

Leaving fresh, sweet dew.

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It is fair to wish,

For a gentle spring morning,

In lieu of your smile.

Winter Wonderland at Lonesome Lake

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Welcoming forest,

Woods I had not forgotten,

And likewise, I know.20161211_133015

Waiting for me there,

My most favorite tree friends,

The winter birches. 20161211_141548

“It is time for cheer!”

They say to me as I pass,

“Look ahead, small one!”20161211_142023

In the deepest woods,

Blanketed by floating snow,

In winter magic. 20161211_142413

The sun has not set,

On our happy time just yet,

So no need to sigh.

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Crossing a river,

Is just a small reminder,

Flowing memories.20161211_143319

We stood reverently –

Purest of Sanctuaries,

The Gates to Heaven.

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I know you passed here;

This is how I will find you,

In Glorious Time.

Life in Death Valley

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Like another world,

Or a future not so far,

Dry, aching ridges.20161118_172928

Oceans in mountains,

Only distant illusions,

To the yearning shrubs.

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Dreams scrape the blue sky,

High above the sand shadow,

Never touching down.20161118_170544

But to float in space,

Over a rippling ridge,

Is a safer place.20161118_170248

We are a moment –

Our long shadows can attest,

Cast once and then gone.20161118_170244

The vectors remain.

(Unchanged by some unknown fate,

Or coincidence.)

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This is the world now.

Fragile, and shifting slowly,

Just beyond our reach.20161118_164853

But still we are small,

Before monumental walls,

Arresting our speech.20161118_163056

And what surprise then,

That our weary eyes may rest,

In the sand-soft curves. 20161118_162234

Just beneath our feet,

The fractured salty sand dunes,

Thirsting for our time. 20161118_161048

In this foreign place,

Where life may have seemed to stop,

Just an hourglass.20161118_143737

A resilient shrub,

Carrying secret wisdom,

Leans into the sun. 20161118_140350_001

Once upon a time,

An ocean filled this valley.

(Forsaken salt brine!)20161118_140348

Single silent sun,

That has watched us all along,

What do you see here?20161118_135124

Ending? Beginning?

To some unknown mystery,

In a blunt landscape?

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But not a mirage –

There is even water here,

And life in death valley.20161118_131447

On the horizon,

I see cool hopeful mountains,

And certainly rest.

Red Rock Canyon

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Bold rocks that stand strong,

Revealing every moment,

Compressed in pressure.20161119_125840

Prism of mountains,

Like a light spread through diamonds,

Kissing the heavens.

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Dip-dyed and patterned

In the highest of fashion,

Haute-couture ranges.20161119_124753

Can we disagree?

(Though some rocks will never move,

And skies never clear.)20161119_124611

Even in the past,

There was a string connection,

Holding hand to hand.

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Along the red road,

 

I feel fire in my soul,

Hopefully passion. 20161119_123507

I want this power,

This indescribable strength,

To hold my mind still.

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A solid boulder,

Protecting a single thought,

For eternity.

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Wistful sky above,

Never to know the hard weight,

Of a long-kept thought. 20161119_122031

Sentinels, soldiers,

Lining the Red Rock passage,

In proud lineage.

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If only we had,

A thousand years of climbing,

And a thousand rocks. 20161119_121842

Sometimes I feel tired,

And I would like to lay down,

In these quiet coves.20161119_121656

Inside honeycombs,

Sweet wishes wind around rocks,

A golden river.

Pilgrimage to Chocorua

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Somehow I return,

I keep looking for something,

Lost on this mountain.

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On a somber day,

With a spring chill in the air,

I come up empty.

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Fog settling in,

Keeping our eyes from the peak,

We walk blindly on.

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Once you held my hand,

To pull me over these rocks,

Dear, sweet memories.

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You have caught my heart,

In a rock and a hard place,

For such a long time.

Mt. Percival and Mt. Morgen in Spring

dsc04518 Delicate newness,

Freshly springing from the trees,

Shivering alive.   dsc04546

Littlest creature,

Resting on the sloped granite,

Where will you go next?

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Surprising bold life,

Even on the mountain top,

Never to be stopped.

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Sweet and supple buds,

Stretching and yawning awake,

We missed you so much.

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Stacked rocking ladders,

Par for the rock climbing course,

And barely a grip.

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Growing together,

Like two plump stubborn mushrooms,

I think I like you 😉

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No matter how far,

I go from my childhood bed,

These plants take me back.

Three Ponds and Mt. Kineo Trail

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Will we see it all?

Before the changes of leaves,

Become too heavy?

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The brightest spectrum,

Soaring above the vortex,

Is an urgent signal.

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Is there a message,

Of solitude yet to come,

In this final leaf?

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Little vestiges,

Of sweet summer weightlessness,

Cling to cold branches.

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Where dormant beavers,

Dare not to stir still waters,

For chance of sightings.

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Two ageless tree stumps,

Standing in the stiff fall wind,

are tersely silent.

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In a bold, brash coup,

Burning autumn leaves defy,

Blue October skies.

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And the river flows,

Never in acknowledgement,

Of a single day.

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Ah – crisp waters sigh,

In an introspective way,

In a single note.

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The sharpest color,

Is a cool crystal azure,

In a hidden pool.

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Perfect, soft and smooth –

Hands playing in tall grasses,

Never to need rest.

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Far off the trail.

We peered beyond the marshes,

At a secret lake.

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Such brilliance beheld,

At the edge of the clearing,

Fishing poles aside.

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Then we were crossing,

That spiny twenty-foot dam,

Mud to our ankles.

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Broadcasting ripples,

To a far away neighbor,

The forgotten log.

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Bitter ruby leaves,

Pungeant like ripe cranberries,

Escort the bright stream.

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But not to forget,

What the pond must have been like,

Before we were here.

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The dam challenges,

Any fearing intruder,

Who wants to stay dry.

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And the logging ops,

Smooth out the windy ripples,

In a little cove.

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More spectacular,

More alive or energized,

Than any canvas.

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And unexpected,

The pool below Kineo,

And the high waters.

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There, the Mountaineer,

Standing as a true equal,

To power beyond.

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Just two old friends then,

Finding peace and forgiveness,

In the wilderness.