trees come alive
when they die,
or they become
much more useful
when they’re dead;
whether they’re
providing a home
for small birds
and squirrels
in the wilds or
providing wood
for us to build
our own homes,
they’ve answered
a higher calling,
no longer only
providing shade.
–photo by me
the path to the pines
is the yellow brick road to
emerald city
–photo by me
the storm arrives just as the sun set
–photo by me
a partridge plays dead–
his act, dead on, but his eyes,
a dead giveaway
–photo by me
–photo by me
summer zephyrs
ripple through wheat fields
as warm as fresh-baked bread;
they dance in the meadows
spinning up a sweet bouquet;
they gust across the beaches
pausing only to put on some
tanning lotions and oils;
they foreshadow the rain
with an earthen dankness
not unlike nightcrawlers
all over the sidewalks
–selfie
our minds are
built unique
with a sole
subjective view
you cannot see
reality
the same way
that i do
some say that
it’s a blessing
but some say
it’s a curse–
for every mind
designs a kind
of homespun
universe
–photo by my son, Aaron
–photo by me
i only knew of
warm days by the cool waters–
and then winter came
yet winter soon taught me that
happiness comes from within
–photo by me
i fell asleep
and flew above–
the moon was peace
the sun was love
and venus, light,
her eye wide ope
the earth was life
and mars was hope
and beyond mars
’twas so sublime
with twinkling stars
and wrinkling time,
at last i fell
back down to earth–
a dream to tell
for what it’s worth
–photo by aaron
michaeljordahl 