
an eagle–
or, perhaps a drone
was circling
o’er my place,
so, when i looked up at him,
i smiled, just in case.
–photo by me

an eagle–
or, perhaps a drone
was circling
o’er my place,
so, when i looked up at him,
i smiled, just in case.
–photo by me

wildfire smoke in the skies
makes for a lovely sunrise,
but the woods, i am learning,
ain’t all that is burning–
right now, it’s my throat and my eyes.
–photo by me

rain comes down upon the range,
and something strange befuddles
all the people passing through:
the sight of rusty puddles.
in all those pools of opaque orange,
an iron oxide’s found–
it seeps into the water here
up from the rusty ground.
and yes, year after year, that rust
into our world seeps;
perhaps someday we’ll rust away–
i’ve heard it never sleeps.
–photo by me




–photos by me

a forest clearing
with a patch of wildflowers–
it’s picnic perfect!
–photo by me

As a teen, I was an avid reader of science fiction and fantasy, and the idea of finding some kind of hidden portal to another reality didn’t seem all that far-fetched.
Now, as an old man, I still think about it when I’m out here in the forest; there could be an entrance to another world anywhere among all these old trees, perhaps leading to a magical realm of fairies and elves.
Well, in a way, I have found portals in the woods. In fact, they’re everywhere, which leads me to today’s quote by mountaineer and author John Muir:
“Between every
two pines is a doorway
to a new world.”
–Photo by me




–photos by me

i went into the wetlands for to shoot some birds in flight,
but i had no idea they would put up such a fight;
a problem with these swallows that is likely to occur:
if you get too near their nests, they will dive-bomb you for sure!
they swoop down out of nowhere, and it makes you duck and squat,
but if you keep from flinching, you may get your flying shot.
and what is my excuse for my failure here today?
the sun was in my eyes and my beard was in my way.
–photo by friend

In the woods, June has its own shade of green–lighter than forest green, ironically, but darker than, say, mint. After a long winter of bare limbs in the forest, it’s nice to have it filling back in; it’s greening up, so to speak. Sometimes the undergrowth seems to take on shapes.
this bush reminds me
of a skinny little teen
with a bunch of pink barrettes
in her hair so green
–photo by me

the smallest voices
in nature often whisper
the greatest secrets
–photo by me