
The trees
in winter dress
kissed by frost
on branches bare.
In the fog
white on white
quiet delight.

The trees
in winter dress
kissed by frost
on branches bare.
In the fog
white on white
quiet delight.
Lord, may gentleness
fall from me,
like an autumn leaf
drifting in the breeze
to greet the ground.May gentleness
be noticed
…in my touch
…and word
…and quiet,
In my work,
…and rest
…and play.
Red acorn shells lie empty
under the snow filled trailer,
a weathered wooden trailer,
once filled with children,
and produce,
branches
and leaves.
But it has been here for many years
sheltering squirrels who eat acorns
in the winter sun.
The thick fog, reluctant to lift,
rolled away
only for the chorus of colored leaves,
in one last sunlit day,
in one last warm breeze.
A single maple leaf
spiraled slowly to greet us,
a coracle swirling in a sea of sky.
We looked across the lake,
at the detritus,
the fragments,
fallen from the bluffs,
fallen among the color.
We rested and waited
for the great crescendo,
for the grand finale,
as an osprey sailed directly overhead.

I say goodbye to little shoes
unused for thirty years,
…they held feet
so small and new.
Feet with tiny toes that curled,
then grew.
Protected by these little shoes
they stood, then walked
and almost flew.
I say goodbye to little shoes
that held the precious feet
as people grew.
Grew to men and woman now
whose feet are fast
…on chosen paths.