Hawk upon blue sky

Soaring above brook and spring

On the endless high

I want to touch a tree.

Not just any tree.

A tree with big green leaves.

I miss the shade trees

give on hot summer days.

The way they smelled, not

like a flower, just the

overall smell of nature.

I want to sit on

Reading should never just be

considered an option.

A life without reading, not

understanding words, only

spots on a page, with the power

to change worlds, but they’re

dead without a voice, no meaning

till they’re read.

On the third day, we took the shortest way

Climbed a mountain and I stayed

Found my wings, and dropped down

While I died, heard a sound

And the sound told me things

That had once pulled my strings

Then I saw my true self

The sky is bright

But the Stars are cold

Like eyes, they twinkle

Ancient and old

Looking down on the Earth far below

They watch and wait,

And what’s more, they know

They look down, older than time

Staring at me

the water is still.

sitting on the dock, watching the horizon

I see

the bright orange, pink, yellow sky

with a mix of purple and blue

slowly fading away into darkness

The water spraying around me

The waves like endlessness enveloping me,

Surrounding me, smothering me

The hugeness of the ocean

Obscures my vision

Numbs my senses

Yet I feel the waves

Pounding, beating.

resounding majesty

abundant light

interceding with the heavens

nymphs like beauty

bestowing radiance

overpowering reign

wondrous creation

I wish

had a tree house

One to sit in all day with my spouse

I would read to the leaves

Feel my hair move with the breeze

A tree supporting so much

Like a caring father that does such

The power to hold all

O, furry friend with aerial ears

Short in memory, but long in years

You hop, you stretch, you yawn, you drink

But as I can guess, you do not think

What passes through your fuzzy head?

You eat, you run, you go to bed

As the wind blows a harsh breeze,

And the trees start to sway on their knees,

Within the surface of the fleeting river,

I see myself sitting in the harsh weather,

As a boy, slouched down in the freeze.

The dust and straws are driven up and down

as the sky darkens from the clouds up high.

It starts to get cooler as the first drop hits the

ground. Then it brings more drops in till it starts

pouring from the clouds above. Some of the drops

The wind is intermitting, dry and light

It rustles the trees and leaves

with silent gracefulness

The eye catches a

glance of the honey auburn leaves

The night world is listening

to every sound echoing

Immovably unquiet and forever

Is the moon’s perch in the sky.

Sitting in a blanket of mismatched stars

Is the place children go for a sweet midnight dream.

Come with me into these memories

Where grown-ups are not allowed

Across the deep concrete river

Where in giant hollow owl’s eyes

You can hear the hidden bears’ growls.

Beneath high branches curved like arches

Their leaves intertwined

Snow is deceiving. It likes to play hard-to-get. Like so many other things in life, I have developed a love-hate relationship with the whole idea of snow. The “dog days” of summer reach their finale, the leaves start falling, and everyone excitedly awaits the first snowfall.

In solitude of the night, with help of

the early storm, you find peace and

utter relaxation. Tearing down the

limits of your imagination, making

room for the inspiration, the

imaginative power of your soul.

Every summer I had to go down to my aunt and uncle’s house in Nebraska. There was never anything to do. They didn’t live near any kids or other people to accompany me. They didn’t feel like they needed cable TV or internet because they were just all-around boring people.

Sometimes, when the soft spring rain

slowly soaks the earth,

And lightly fingers everything,

Giving it a coat of droplets,

The color of everything begins to fade...

It darkens out the colors

And smooths out texture.

Silence is here again.

No whispering trees

Not even a howl from the wind.

The river no longer laughs.

The sounds of our happiness are gone,

But I will never forget that bright autumn day

The sky gleamed a radiant blend of colors which reflected on the glassy ocean. The aroma of varieties of flowers fresh from the fields lingered in the air.

Today is one of those days, where everyone stops to take a minute and appreciate what we have, rather than what we want. We worry about the tiny little things in life that don’t matter, instead of the things that can change our life. Today is one of those days.

The mountain trail is steep, and even I am having a hard time staying upright. The ridge I’m on is rocky and desolate, and I am the only thing moving. My chest is heaving as I struggle over the treacherous granite.

The place many memories were made, where laughs echo throughout the woods. Splashes into the water below can still be heard and felt on a hot summer’s day. The rope that hangs, worn and weathered from young hands, gripping it tightly.

I love watching cows. They remind me of my blankets on cold nights, when all is freezing, and I need something to snuggle up with. Each cow is unique, like a snowflake. Sometimes it’s hard to find the difference, but if you look close enough the picture becomes clear.

I wonder why

when I look up to the sky

dark clouds roll by

and birds don’t fly, but die.

Spring brings the iris

budding from the sodden ground

life’s color at last

It began with the fire’s havoc, then rained the wild water. Next came the dancing wind, then the fumbling forming earth. At first everything was peaceful but the elements did not get along well.

A star, bright, sky’s diamond

Yellow, blue, white, green

A shinier object

Mine eyes have not seen

I have not been told

Of a more unique thing

Not light itself, music,

A crystal, a ring

The wind and rain, two things I love most. They go hand in hand, the wind and rain. First, the wind blows through and tells the world to be quiet and listen; then the rain comes and washes away horrible things.