Tag: nature poetry

Moving Forward

 

 

A photograph of a mountain lake reflecting the surrounding mountains

If there’s a Heaven, and assuming that’s where I go, I hope there are:

Bluebird skies to fill my eyes,
Brilliant stars to light the nights,
Unknown trails to touch my feet,
Mountaintops to hope to reach.

Lot’s of trees to fill the forests,
Golden Trout to take my flies,
Sketchy ledges to try to ride,
Good friends to walk beside.

Open spaces just to wander,
No time to waste or squander,
Stiff breezes to nudge me onward,
No false summits to tease me forward.

Silent places to clear my head,
Smells of flowers to fill my nose,
New horizons to give me hope,
Boundless vistas to help me cope.

Solid rock to hold onto,
Cooing doves to listen to,
Flowing rivers to float my boat,
Roaring rapids to hope to float.
.
Massive glaciers to ski across,
Mountain streams to need to cross,
Flat spots to pitch my tent,
Stacks of rocks to block the wind,

Deep crevasses to blow my mind,
Smokeless campfires to warm my spine,
New treasures to try to find,
No good times to leave behind.

Audio Version:

The Constant

 

These days,
In today’s civilized world,
Confusion exists.
In spite of the chaos,
Some positives persist.

So, I head into the wilds,
Where the cactus still bloom.
Fawns take a first step,
And thunderstorms brew.

Buds turn into leaves,
The mountains still call.
Robin eggs hatch,
And river ice thaws.

Dandelions flower,
The Sun rises each day.
Scorpio appears,
And snowdrifts melt away.

Live Oaks shed their leaves,
Meadows turn green.
Hummingbirds show,
And birds start to sing.

Streams fill up with run-off,
Trees blow in the wind.
High trails can be walked,
And there are more peaks to ascend.

Each day is longer,
Herds of Elk scatter.
Bass build their nests,
And the marmots are gladder.

Nighttimes are chilly,
Yet daytimes are warm.
Caterpillars roam,
And Honey Bees swarm.

Agarita’s blossom,
Campfires still smoke.
The Dewberries ripen,
And Prickly Pears poke.

Horizon fills the distance,
Summit views astound.
The wonder of nature,
Is a both a constant and profound.

Continue reading “The Constant”

Out the Door

 

Soaking it all in

Adventure calls,
An hour awaits.
What will I see?
What are my fates?

So, I walk through the doorway
And into the woods.
With no trail to walk on,
I follow the coulds.

Right off the bat,
Post Oaks and vines,
Along with some Greenbriers,
Mix with the pines.

At first, I feel limits
To where I can go.
Then push through a tangle,
And go with the flow.

Once out of the thicket,
A meadow appears.
A grazing deer stops,
And perks up its ears.

Though free of confinement,
I stop in my tracks,
Eager to see,
Just how it reacts.

Despite my quiet efforts,
It scampers away.
Just why that happened,
I simply can’t say.

So, I move on ahead,
Across open terrain.
The ground would’ve been solid,
Except for the rain.

My boots become wet
And the dirt turns to mud.
My feet are soon covered
With masses of crud.

I turn to my right
Toward higher ground.
I’m hoping for dryness,
But none can be found.

After walking 5 minutes,
I top a small rise.
Then suddenly before me,
–a pleasant surprise.

A field of wild Raspberries,
Is blocking my route.
And I can see by their color,
That they’re ripe without doubt.

I fill up on berries,
Then emerge near a creek.
I follow the bank,
A dry crossing, I seek.

Around a curve in the creek,
A log bridges the stream.
I get halfway across
Then it breaks, and I scream.

Into the water,
I fall with a thud.
It’s not all that deep,
But there’s plenty of mud.

I move on across,
Then, climb out at the shore.
I’m nasty and wet,
And cold to the core.

Glad to be out,
I sit down on a log.
And that’s when I’m greeted,
By a sick-looking dog.

I look for its owner,
But no one is near.
That the poor pooch is hungry,
Seems to be clear.

I give it my snack,
And it eats it up quick.
Then it chews on some grass,
And picks up a stick.

It sits down beside me
And we both shut our eyes.
But are soon startled to action
By shrieking and cries.

Something’s distressed
I quickly conclude.
We run toward the noise,
And arrive at a feud.

Two birds are fighting
Over a morsel of food.
I stop in my tracks,
But the dog can’t be subdued.

It goes in on attack
But the prey easily escape.
The dog feasts on the morsel
Which puts an end to the scrape.

I get back to my walk
And the dog follows my lead.
But I have no clue where I am,
I’m lost I concede.

I was full of questions.
Should I go right?
Turn to the left?
Or just go where I might?

But then I look up,
And there in the trees
My cabin awaits
Which puts me at ease.

How did I get back here?
I wonder in vain.
I almost turned back,
Have I gone insane?

We walk to the cabin
I don’t know where I’ve been.
But I’m glad to be back
And I’ll take the win.

I ponder the pooch,
The berries, and creek.
The mud, and the cold,
The adventures I seek.

Whether it’s for minutes
Or days without end.
I cherish those moments,
That lead ‘round a bend.

Audio Version:

Taking a Break

 

Golden Lake in the Wind River Range of Wyoming
The Wind River Range, Wyoming

Dreams of a river
Full of trout,
And an alpine summit
Without a route;

Of slippery slopes
All clad in ice,
And trail suppers served
Without any rice;

There’s alpine tundra
Filled with flowers,
Lonely mountaintops
With red rocky towers;

Huge herds of Bison
Shake the ground,
And Mule Deer run
Without a sound;

A strong wind answers
With silent breath,
The persistent questions
Of life and death;

Bull Elk bugle
Their signalling call,
While Aspens brighten
A mountain fall;

There are spongy hummocks
Of wetland grass,
And clear blue lakes
As smooth as glass;

The horizon’s filled
With massive peaks,
Snow-melt fills
A maze of creeks;

Unknown trails
Are everywhere,
I wonder which
Will take me there;

There are boulder fields
And talus slopes,
Berry vines
And climbing ropes;

Happy faces
Wide open spaces,
A lot of places
With few human traces;

I open my eyes
And step back onto the trail.
I breathe in deep;
Choose where I’m going;
Smile; and exhale.

Audio:

Mountain climbers nearing the summit of a mountain

Light at the End of the Tunnel

 

The afternoon rain nourished the ground,
But left your fingers cold, wet, and numb.
Your hands feel like blocks of wood.
The situation is miserable,
But a hot cup of coffee awaits.

It was only a riffle,
But the canoe turned over anyway,
And all of your stuff is soaked.
There’s a warm and stiff breeze,
So just pull over to the bank,
Unpack your gear, set it out,
And let the wind work its drying magic.

The snow has gotten into your boots,
And your socks are sopping wet.
Your toes are beginning to ache
And lose feeling.
But the cabin is nearby,
And you’ll soon have your bare feet
Propped up on a chair and warming in front of the wood stove.

The early morning rain shower
Was unfortunate, timing-wise.
The tent fly is completely saturated
And it’s time to pack up and leave.
So just stuff it in the bag as is.
Soon enough, you’ll have it spread out
And drying under a blaring sun.

The conditions are brutal above treeline,
But that’s where you are.
High winds are blowing the snow
Directly into your face,
Stinging, burning, and limiting what you can see.
But the calm of the refugio
Is only a few minutes away.

Somehow, you got the tent set up in the rain,
Before the full force
Of the storm arrived.
Now it’s really coming down.
But” glory be!” –you’re warm and dry
Inside the tent and zipped up in your sleeping bag

There’s no moon, and the night is incredibly dark.
You’ve put on all the clothes you have
But are still cold.
You bundle up in your sleeping bag
As much as you can, but your shivering is out of control.
Then, you remember
That dawn is coming,
And tomorrow is supposed to be hot and sunny.

Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere.
You’re alone, it’s late-night, and you’re
Distressed by the thought of all the things you don’t have.
But then, you realize what you do have,
Which includes no pressing schedule
And a pleasantly warm night ahead.
And so, you recline the seat,
Close your eyes, and relax yourself to sleep.

The thunder and lightning are especially terrifying
From your up-close position under the tree.
Thankfully, you got your raingear on
Before the thunderstorm unleashed its torrent.
It begins to rain hard,
But the time between thunder and lightning
Is beginning to lengthen,
And you know that means the storm is moving away.

Rest comes easier,
When you know there is,
Light at the end of the tunnel.

Anchoring the Tent

 

Outside the Doors, Nature Scores

 

Colorado mountains
Miles and Miles of Wild

Drizzly days
And hilltop haze.
Northern Lights
And starry nights.

Soggy trails
And empty sails.
Mountaintops
And hurt that stops.

Fields of flowers
And meteor showers.
Desert sands
And barren lands.

Paths aplenty
And options many.
Frozen hands
And fouled up plans.

Horrid heat
And driving sleet.
Summit hopes
And gentle slopes.

Thirst unquenched
And clothes all drenched.
Grazing herds
And flocks of birds.

Gentle breeze
And massive trees.
Blowing gales
And monster tales.

Wild Strawberries
And pristine prairies.
Foot stuck in mud
And massive flood.

Thorny shrubs
And a boot that rubs.
A swimming Otter
And fresh running water.

Deep snow on ridges
And rotten bridges.
Double rainbows
And grassy meadows.

Warm sunshine
And stars align.
Runout cracks
And big bear tracks.

Possibilities many
And thoughts of plenty.
No food or drink
And skunks that stink.

Butterflies
And stormy skies.
Hornet stings
And Condor wings.

Times of wonder
And times of thunder.
Wobbly fawns
And rainy dawns.

Squirrels at play
And birds of prey.
Rose hip tea
And churning sea.

Majestic views
And trails you lose.
Grand waterfalls
And sheer cliff walls.

Warming fire
And prickly briar.
Red sunsets
And route regrets.

Blue noontime sky
And dust in eye.
Lost, then found
And a cracking sound.

Unseen growls
And hooting owls.
Joyous hoots
And slippery roots.

Thank-god Holds
And summer colds.
Scree to ski
And crashing tree.

Moonlight glow
And blowing snow.
Horny Toads
And unneeded roads.

Times of glitch
And times of rich.
Times of pain
And times of gain.

Outside the door
There’s lots of or.
There’s good and bad.
And happy and sad.

So,
Embrace the rhymes
And engage the times.

———————————————————–

Audio Version:

Clearing in the West

Harmonizing

Soaking it all in

Kick back and feel the moment,
Hear the music in the air.
Nature’s harmonizing,
Its sound is everywhere.

To the west, there’s thunder rumbling,
Down below a river roars.
Across the way, a wolf is howling,
While an eagle loudly soars.

In the forest tree trunks groan,
An unseen tree falls with a whack,
Footsteps walk an unknown trail,
And branches bend and loudly crack.

A fish splashes in the creek,
And rockfall echoes from the cirque.
Busy Beavers slap the water,
As they go about their work.

To the west, a coyote yips,
While staying just beyond your reach.
Raindrops pelt the leaves above,
Where two big Buzzards sit and screech.

On the ridge the north wind whistles,
As it blows between the rocks.
In the marsh, the frogs are croaking,
And they sound like ticking clocks.

What you hear is quite compelling,
But what you don’t is more profound.
So, close your eyes and listen hard,
To both the silence and the sound.

Audio Version:

 

So Much to Hear

Problems in Need of Solutions

 

Pondering the route

No sail for the wind,
Or rock to ascend.

No birds in the sky,
Or reasons to cry.

No bike for the trail,
Or mountain to scale.

No sun for the day,
Or words yet to say.

No cold for the heat,
Or dance for the beat.

No fly for the trout,
Or sense in the route.

No skis for the snow,
Or mystery to know.

No tent for the night,
Or rope to keep tight.

No found for the lost,
Or gain to the cost.

No coat for the storm,
Or way to stay warm.

No boat for the river,
Or stop to the shiver.

No pack for the stuff,
Or smooth for the rough.

No elk for the wallow,
Or pathways to follow,

No skates for the ice,
Or bowl for the rice.

No cool for the hot,
Or stove for the pot.

No tent for the rain,
Or gain for the pain.

No boots for the feet,
Or snacks left to eat.

No water for the drink,
Or reasons to think.

No gloves for the hands,
Or wild in the lands.

No parks for the town,
Or trails to walk down.

No socks for the feet,
Or strangers to meet.

No summits to reach,
No moments that teach.
No ring in the bell,
No story to tell.

——————————————–

Audio Version:

Descending into a valley in Bolivia.

Fetching Water

 

Waiting for the water to boil

I headed to the creek to get a pot full of water.
And tripped on a root on my way back to camp.
I staggered and stumbled but didn’t fall,
Then dropped the pot and spilled it all.

Continue reading “Fetching Water”

Part of the View

 

I climb to a high place,
And savor the view,
So much to see,
My world seems anew.

Ground ripples below
Until it reaches a stream.
That’s flowing along
With water agleam.

Bright shiny reflection,
Small, but intense.
Catches my eye,
Creating suspense.

A big Douglas Fir,
Sways to and fro’.
Seems guarding something,
From what I don’t know.

Squirrel scampers across
A branch to my side.
It notices me,
And begins to chide.

The light moves on,
And the magnificent buck
That’s resting under a pine,
Looks more like a duck.

Out of the forest,
A trail comes forth.
Crosses below
And heads to the north.

Some animal runs,
Its movement a flash.
Then abruptly jumps into
The creek with a splash.

A rock falls from the cliff
Off to my right.
Its crash at the bottom
Creates quite a sight.

Above the horizon,
Beyond what I know,
Big mountains arise,
All capped in snow.

Where clouds meet the ground,
And land becomes sky.
The near disappears,
And far enters my eye.

Then, I realize,
That the things that I see.
Are simple, yet complex,
And all part of me.

Each time I gaze,
At the world all around.
The sights may be different,
But they always astound.

It’s heartening to know,
I have a role in the view.
I’m a cog in the world,
A part of the stew.

So, I stand up and turn,
Then go on my way.
Ready to face,
What comes as it may.

Audio Version:

Seeing the Sunset