mornings, Main Lake, Quadra Island

Reflections from Main Lake, Quadra Island

Goldstream Park

broad leaf maple

just inside Banf, name?

sun thru' gary oaks, top of lone tree hill

Woods by Wendell Berry

I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
there is singing around me.
Though I am dark
there is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
there is flight around me.

blackberry

It was morning, or
so said my body, awakened
by soft glow full moon.
Rising to an open window,
damp, cool of night cleared
sleep's dry blanket
covering my eyes.
And the moon,
suspended from a royal fir,
every needle formally dressed.
Laying my body down,
I rested to this dream.

Gulf Islands

Portland Island

thimble berry leaves

Wilderness is not my god
but God is my wilderness.
All things naturally wild
are the needle of a compass.
And God stands magnetic north.

Though often seen,
I heard something new.
Exposed to sun, arbutus bark cracks, peels
and slowly, slowly young green flesh is exposed.
The sun rose and cast her rays.
Like the sound of gentle fire,
outer skins of this stand
dried and shed.
And the aging of time
reveals sapling beauty.

I took two steps into the waking of this world.
The rising sun crowned the tops of low hung clouds and
cool, wet evening earth rose to the warmth of morning air.
Days have gone by, and I close my eyes.
I breathe in, picture
and am there again.

in the beginning and until today

I want the fruit
the one I cannot eat.
I have forgotten all things
for this one ripe pleasure.
Now, it must be mine.
Have I not blessing enough, you ask?
No, surely there is more.
Take and eat.

And I am hungry still.

Just one royal blade,
early morning sun on backlit grass.
Golden laced shadows,
stand against still darkened woods.
And this city of my mind
with its constant traffic
is at rest.