Tag Archives: poetry

Late night satisfaction with life

the spirits come dancing when singing to them
a gateway opens and succulent benevolence comes streaming in
a wish a hope a yearning a pleading
is food for the beloved unseen compassionate ones
who wait for us to call for miracles
applauding the courage, licking in the tears
the change so desired unknown
reveled in
the healing ripples out into the universe
one soul at a time

thank the gods for this way of shamans and love, sound and song

thank the gods for this good day, awakening, divine, luscious life lived

through sight in the dark from the heart


I Read the Trees

I Read the Trees

(written on a Wolftree science expedition in 1997)

I read the trees for what they say

of days and eons while we’re away.

How the forest site has grown to be

the stand of tree people we all see.

They stand like sentries and gift me stories

of fire, flood, those landscape glories.

Majestic guides in forest stands

their comings and goings tell of the land.

They whisper legends in the night

and reveal volumes about the site.

If crowds of trees emerged from seed,

and struggled for the light they need.

Or open grown trees with lots of space

grew branches broad and won the race.

When limbs are thick growing down to the ground,

they have had few competing neighbors around.

But when limbs are gone from down below,

they’ve grown in crowds, limbs tell me so.

The struggling small trees start to die

when light is lacking, ‘though they try

to keep up growth with their fellow trees

whose growth is faster, and the light they seize.

I read the trees, they tell me of

the climate and the world above.

In wet spots where the alder grow

to high alpine that hemlocks know.

as grand fir humbles in low lands

the cottonwood tower in riparian stands.

The pine flats of tom brown’s places

To stands that stand on south & north faces.

Did you know the atmosphere sucks

and has control over the gaseous flux-

CO2 in and water vapor out

that affects trees growth when in a drought?

With this special feat, taking CO2,

trees do the miraculous thing they do-

Using the sun to make their food

and passing it on for our fortitude.

Trees catch the sun and suck up water

without their shade the streams grow hotter.

They hold the soil with netted roots

that keeps streams clear for fish and knutes.

Their leaves they add much to the soil

from their gifts they make dirt royal,

fertile ground for seeds to sprout, and

growing fields where greens burst out.

The trees you see they hold the birds,

and chipmunks, squirrels, elders’ words.

Their giving food and sheltered nests

makes rich homes for forest guests.

Eventually they die and fall

creating habitat for big and small

mammals, amphibeans, mushrooms, ants,

these down and dead serve new forest plants.

And as they decay, those fallen ones

create good fire fuel by the ton.

And slow the rivers, making pools

for chinook and coho, salmonid jewels.

And as they die from disease in pockets

their openings make other trees grow like rockets.

And so the cycle begins again

the book of trees I read never ends.

I read the trees, their secrets clear;

come read with me while you are here.

Their stories for you will soon unfold.

Their tales are yours, their wisdom old.