Nature’s Fury

Our planet sways,
Twirling madly around
The glowing orb of light
We have called the sun;
And here we call home.

Water and air and soil
Compromise in space to
Allow us purchase here,
And we do so very little
To thank Mother Nature.

Despite many hazards,
We leave forests empty
And seas spoiled abroad.
We ignore the warnings
Hiding in tree rings and
Long forgotten stones.

Buried like seeds, they
Rest not in peace but in
Wait for the right time
And the right season.

Only then will they rise.
Sprouts among giants but
Strong as an alder bough,
Ready to form in tandem
The eaves of this church
We now worship within.

MSBQ

Equinox

Leaves changing
Their palette to the
Most charming shades
Of orange and crimson,
Each morning, the sun
Sleeps in just a little bit
Longer, and the cold
Breezes bluster,
Preparing for their
Wintry debut.
With every sunset,
We march onward to
An autumn cadence.
The longest nights
Lie still ahead

MSBQ

Woodwork

The best kind of things
Are the ones that don’t
Make sense until you see
The ins and outs of what
Goes on inside.

Open me up,
Create a cross section
Of this flesh and bone,
And count the rings:
One, two, three.
There are wonders in
This world that one
Can only find beneath
The layers of time.

Muted shades of
Autumnal leaves float
In blustery breezes,
Striking my face with a
Surprising force. The sun
May penetrate the thin
Layer of grey clouds
Drifting above me, but
It can never pierce the
Bark on my trunk.

My heartwood stirs at
The sound of your voice.

MSBQ

Indian Summer

Swirling winds pick up;
Subtler hues in your eyes
Shine like the hard faces of
Gems cut from the earth.
It is not yet the equinox.

I wonder if the roots of
Trees feel the warmth
Of autumn sunlight, or if
They drink in the soil
As their foliage turns
The colors of passion:
Orange and crimson.

Hopefully your mind
Wanders like mine,
Swaying like those leaves
In the dusk, braving the
Mires of reality just to
Think of me.

MSBQ

House of Leaves

A savory breeze passed the time
Blowing across a tall wheat field
Many had prayed there, lived there,
But few had truly understood it

At the top of a hill, there laid
The foundations of what never was
Little more than a bald green hill
Surrounded by a sea of gold

You played house with a
Floor plan made of leaves and
Your heart in full bloom; you took me
By utter and complete surprise

I thought, more than once, that perhaps
My place had been there, on that hill
Where neither time nor mind could ever
Shatter the veil that we had created

What remains is a lost ruin,
A monument to opportunities and
The events of a tangent world
Still imprinted upon ours

The two souls reunite, they say
If you wait for a harvest moon
And listen for their laughter
In the cold autumn night.

MSBQ