The book of
Woodland Creatures
A c o l l e c t i on o f p o e m s
For my family
B eyond thr woods, beyond the seas, beyond the high mou n t ai n s is where m ystery br e ath es. . .
The Stag’s breath
W h en enco u nter ing th e sta g in t he wild, ou r b reath catch es, we sta nd s t ill, we y i e l d to a n o ld ca ll wi th in our n at ure. we a re tr ansf ixed by th is cre at ure ’s s t ren gt h an d grac e, we watch i n si lence. Th e k i n g of th e f orest m ove wit h t he mos t balan c ed s t eps, l e a di n g th e creatu res o f th e wood.
In th e sof tness of gray on t his A pril’s day A myster i ou s ch ant through t he woodlan ds. A r hyth mic r a in wit h a t ime le s s re frain , Per f u ming th e a ir wit h t he an c ient s pic e of e art h.
Those Black feathers that shine like the moon
Every n ight a raven vis it s me it s fe at hers dark as it s fut ure every n ight a raven vis it s me it s eye s full of dre ams every n ight a raven vis it s me whis perin g whis perin g every n ight a raven vis it s me t e llin g t ale s of s orrow every n ight a raven vis it s me t e llin g a forgot t en me mory every n ight a raven vis it s me it s hart full of a want in g every n ight a raven vis it s me sh ar i ng words, t hat don `t want t o be s aid every n ight a raven vis it s me every n ight i fly my fe at hers dark as my pas t .
B eau ty sof tens i n tr an s parent lac e, Woven th read s of time, t an gible... Su spend ed in p lace. A mor ning veil of tran sluc ent grac e.
One the Prowl
Y el l ow eyes glo w i ng i n th e t wilight light . O r a n ge lea ves cr u nch ing u n de rfoot . R ed f u r , d r y a nd aged , j u s t l i k e a n o ld -f a sh i oned wig might look. C a r e f u l ly h e snif f s th e air an d dirt , s e a r c h i ng f or si gns of sma ll an imals , t u c k e d a w a y a s to not get hurt . H i s e a r s and p r ick ed h i s h a c k les h i gh s e n s i n g a little ma m ma l v er y c l ose b y. W a i t i n g ou t th e scent j u st to be s ure w h e n s u d d enly a “cr a ck m a k es h i m la y to th e f or est floor
H e l ook s b eh i nd j u st to see a s t r on g b u ck stand i ng on a falle n t re e .
A bove th e sh ore a h eav y mis t S p read s acro ss th e b a r ren fie lds To th e f orest, w h ere i n quie t won der A so f t gloo m rests u p on t he t ree s. S ea clou d d rea m s m ake O ctober f og’ s cold b reat h... A n d lonely wood la nd s mys t ic glow.