lavender hues
hidden behind
a floral aroma—
a tapestry
for the nose.
The road winds through
this place—these
places—
along the river towns
of Pennsylvania—
building up the
storehouse of pleasantries
from the onslaught of Spring.
Spring,
it creeps itself
into this
place slowly;
moving ever on
through the mountains’
alluviations and
foothills. Seeking
to inhabit the
higher places of the
river valley.
This plague of
color and
deviation
from dirt
and
bark
smites the crenulations of
these crenelated
places each year.
For, this sickness;
for,
this cancerous
ravishing force of greening
newness and the bud
I shall find a deep
seated thanks
and
praise for this.
This is
where
I am
transformed.
If A Stone
If a stone should fall out from the bottom;fall out from the middle
of the bottom of a wall
along the boundary of a field;
would that change things?
Would time
fall through the stones
into the dirt
and somehow
wash away important things
that we had only just
remembered from our past.
Things we swore
as children
we would never regress upon—
never undo our
severity of emotion
and belief for.
Or, would it just be
a break in the bottom
of a stone wall
that runs along a field
at the base
of a red shale mountain
just outside Uhlerstown,
Pennsylvania.
At the end of spring,
I believe.
Beautiful Land
Only give me some space—be it ever so small—to lay my head and ponder.Only give me some space—be it ever so tiny—to sit myself and stare.The place where one piece of land meets another—ALMOST.The space where one mountain reaches itself down and out toward the upward slope of another—ALMOST.There is a river there that runs between the betweens of that place.There is an echo there that bounces off the mountain walls.It is in that great space of the between you tilled the earthy loam of compassion.It is in that expansive place of the echo you planted tender seedlings of giving.The purpling shadows of the dawn-rise mist drape the moistening soil and feed the youngling trees.The days will wear on and it will not be long before the trees you have nursed offer sheltering shade and generative seed.Ponder and stare - with me—upon the grove you have planted;blossom and leaf are soon to bud.Come into this valley of tenderness and gentle giving;find repose among the spreading limbs and cold running water.This place is of your own creating.This space is of your own design.
This is where you
shall find your “you.”
Only give me some space—be it ever so small—to lay my head and ponder.Only give me some space—be it ever so tiny—to sit myself and stare.The place where one piece of land meets another—ALMOST.The space where one mountain reaches itself down and out toward the upward slope of another—ALMOST.There is a river there that runs between the betweens of that place.There is an echo there that bounces off the mountain walls.This beauty is yours;this beauty is you.
Standing Firm
Standing firm
and facing into
the edges of these hills
into the edges
of those valleys
and
the river
out along
the far reaches;
I am able
to slow enough
to
