Webs and Goldenrod

on By

There are secrets on the trail
Quiet and subdued
A certain color
Or refraction of light
A specific scent
Sent to trigger memories

It looks like dirt
Or dead leaves
Stagnant water waiting
For the rush beyond
The strength to withstand
Revealing old newness

All those things
In us
About us
Through us
What we are
What we are to become

Inside Out

on By

Webs cross my face
Deep within lines
Already drawn
One for each year

Chill in the bones
A sleeping resurgence 
As vague
As hair growing

This slow melting
The longest yawn
Can be seen
Through the trees

Just there
Beyond reach
Untouchable
Unconsciously palpable

oils on canvas 12″x12″

trees are the last to give in….in the forest, we can watch it on the natural screen,
framed for our liking…a movie not to be missed, playing worldwide….one showing only