On the Misty Trail

 

On the Horizon

 

We witness her beauty with eyes that won’t see

What was and what is, and what ought to be

 

Nature our teacher, from the roots to the tree

Plundered for profit, what she gives us for free

 

But on the horizon with eyes that must see

What was and what is, and what ought to be

 

Paint Me a Picture

 

Paint me a picture

Weathered and wise

Today not tomorrow

Leave the disguise

 

It’s not hard to see faces

Worn and weary cases

Drifting between raindrops

And the silence between spaces

 

So paint me a picture

As tall as the moon

Show us some wisdom

Say now never soon

 

 

A New Day

 

Under the Tree

 

The Hidden Waters

 

Where the river flows through silent veils

In the sheltered forest her spirits rise

 

On hidden waters and forgotten trails

Beneath the shade of sacred skies

 

In the silence we heed her hails

For ancient wisdom in peaceful guise

 

The Woodland Garden

 

Gentle is the morning light

In the garden of earthly guise

Awakes the dawn from weary night

And greets the day through nature’s eyes