Wednesday, July 27, 2011

"Another Day"

Melting ice beats to a sacred rhythm, as the Sun's warmth awakens the land from a cold night's slumber.

The nocturnal ones give way to the day shift, as sounds from the Northern forest commence their daily numbers.A cool mystical fog lays thick on the receding snow, from the lack of a stiff wind to guide it through the old growth that has yet to be found by the logger. The Maple has gathered it's sweet flow of liquid life to reenergize for another season, as the hawk on it's limb spots the first morning meal, creeping out from last years leaf. And another day of life starts here on Earth. -CHE

"The Old Barn"

The old barn, what a tale it could tell, the storms it's weathered, to protect what it held.

With board and nail it grew towards the sky, a proud new monument that looked down from high.
Labor and time... sweat, blood and tears, it served it's purpose proudly throughout the years.
Like an old friend, it was trusted and true, and was always there for your stuff and you.
But now you moved on, and your barn remains, the elements and gravity have swept in to claim.
It's boards and nails, are now warped and rusty, the contents inside are old and dusty, and the
moss- covered foundation is wet and musty.
It leans to the left now and shutters from the wind, will it stand another Winter, or collapse from within.
I hope it will make it, but know it might fall, eventually in Nature the end comes for all.
The old barn, what a tale it could tell, the storms it's weathered, to protect what it held. -CHE

Sunday, July 24, 2011

"The Dream"

Dreamt I was eagle flying high in the sky, soaring on two wings and the thermals was I. The feeling of freedom as I looked down below, the clouds were majestic and the Sun was aglow.
The dream continued, but this time I was deer, bounding and frolicking in a meadow, all clear.
No man in sight to disturb my good time, the dewed grass was sweet, unpolluted, devine.
Shape shifting commenced, and I became frog, snatching up insects as I sat on my log.
Two hops away to a lilypad nearby, sunning myself til my skin turned dry.
Taken aback this time I was tree, reaching for the Sun, defying gravity.
Swaying back and forth, to the rythym of wind, my roots gather water for a drink from within.
Then I became rock, polished and still, wanting to move with all of my will.
Weathered and worn by the passage of time, elements have their way, as I wish sublime.
When I awoke, it became so clear, that we are all connected to the things we hold dear. -CHE


Thursday, July 21, 2011

"Ghosts of Lake George"

Such a beautiful place for blood to be shed,

   war after war, and countless are dead.

Do restless souls still wander this land,

  cut short in life by taking a stand.

Many folks today take for granted their freedom,

  never give thought about how much we did need'em.

The greed of countries gave birth to these fights,

  having total disregard for the indigenous one's rights.

Through war and disease their numbers went down,

  their way of life turned from smile to frown

The ghosts of Lake George and the sacrifices they made,

  give the respect they deserve so their memory won't fade. -CHE