Category Archives: Mountains

Winter’s Vale

Upon this gilded crest I stand
where winter’s dancing dress adorns
the regal length of dale below,
skirting foothills, neatly worn.

A split rail fence, in signature,
defines a wild and aging seam
that hems this ageless beauty,
proposing hope, exposing dreams.

Coyly courting winter comes,
dressed in softened white and grey,
shy and timid tucked behind
the granite range and soft woods fray.

Yet the valley stands unmoved,
flirtations feigned unnoticed there,
coaxing slowly winter’s sum
to speak in cooling wisps of air.

Between the knees of foothills rolls
a slow progression, crystal white,
gathered low across the vale
caressing with a love, a light.

Above the hush approaching,
the sky recedes in charcoal black,
wraps the moment’s solitude,
granting solace, stealing back.

Winter finds its bolder self
and rises to a bitter howl
that bursts in sudden hemorrhage
of driven snow and gusty growls.

How innocent here the valley lays,
silent in the storm,
subdued in gathering crystal white,
enrobed as winter’s wife, and warm.

I deny my presence
to the sensuous play beyond my stance,
chased from this my borrowed perch
to let this moment’s pleasure dance
and let this moment turn,
where what the season’s changing brings
is what this vale so deeply yearns.

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Where First Snows Fly

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Between the hills of time I rise to meet the last of autumn still,
paused at moment’s pondering, with cup in hand near lea and rill.
The morning air does call me to kiss my love, my fall, goodbye,
to trek the path to timber’s edge, to meadow’s cirque where first snows fly.

So gather what I need and must, I set my path to cairns I trust.

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Between the hills of time I walk along the rill that whispers still,
I leave the lea behind me with grateful steps to bless my will.
The grasses dry, and seedless,enwrap the feet of aspen groves
whose spotted bark stands white and bare, midst ruddy leaves heaped up in loaves.

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The summer’s scrub that once was green stands burnt in tarnished autumn red,
portrays a pillow sweetly laid in meadow grass for winter’s bed.
The silent breath of morning prays undisturbed by wind’s caress,
yet joined by quiet prattling of falling leaves released to rest.

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As the hills in confluence meet, the dell’s denied its fold,
leads me cresting rise and roll to stand at valley’s longest hold.
In the distance stand the Massives, the granite Kings and Queens of Earth,
that draw my journey westward in hope to witness winter’s birth.

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As stream’s companion through the valley, I step in quiet contemplation,
drawing every whisper in that speaks anticipation.
At Massive’s knees the valley ends with guarding alpine fir,
whose dense and stretching boughs deny the slightest wind to stir.

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So to climbing stream I must, to lead me to the cairns I trust.

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Above the stream’s sharp climb I find a path that deer and elk must know.
In steps of theirs I follow, ‘til only echoes far below.
There I find the higher road that very few have seen.
There I rest within the sight of Massive King and Queen.

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Through alpine thick, luxurious, I trod with gypsy song in heart
and sing until the green wood rings through echoes harmonized in part.

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As through last twist of trail I climb, I rise upon the final crest,
where blowing snow does kindly greet and hide the Massives grey in dress.
I turn my face from stinging snow as wind whips cold toward autumn’s eye,
now caught between the Court of Kings and crystal azure sky.
Before the stolid cirque I kneel, courage facing King and Queen,
I beseech a moment’s council and beg the sun to grace the scene.

At their feet the marsh stands still, reverent yet commanding,
as I in drying grasses claim the truth of where I’m standing.
In whispered tones and crystal light, winter’s voice asked why I’m here.
With gracious bow and nod I said, “To find if winter’s edge is near.
I’ve come to seek the point of flux where sun and storm cast crystals blue.
I’ve come to vow my love of life and give my thanks to all of you.”

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In sudden hush the clouds withdrew! The sun in glowing rays did stream
upon the cirque and meadow’s keep! Upon the face of King and Queen!
Awestruck from my lowly stance I raised my face to God above,
whispered kindly, “thank you! This moment blessed! This life is love!”
Gently in the warming air October’s court drew softly blue
and stood this life in sharp relief against the growing azure hue.

As winter’s force is master in October’s court of King and Queen,
with bows and some relenting, I turned to face the alpine green.
As I walked my path to home, I thought of Autumn’s fade,
knowing well her work was done and winter’s bed was surely made.

Today I gathered what I must along the cairns I’ve come to trust.

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Above the Alpine Rill

High amid the summer fir,
engaged to overlook the rill
of winding valley’s rising mist,
one moment captured, standing still.

From the shadowed night behind,
swept a feathered rush of wings
just beyond the tall pine’s reach,
aloft this breath of morning, king!

Stoic eagle, timeless brother,
perched on valley’s rising din,
purveyor of this latitude,
great servant to the truth within.

There, by grace of silence
midst summer’s green of sweetened pine,
beheld the hushing heart of nature
in whispered words spoke true and kind…

“Here my sweet beloved
have you come to rest your soul,
where through this moment’s treasure
find the truth that bathes you whole.
Yet for you, in thankfulness,
return the kindness that you share,
in hidden whispered thoughts of God,
aloft this summer’s morning air.”

Not a single breath, took I,
entranced through every stretching beat,
as grace and time converged to still
this captured silence sweet.

… till I …

… till I …

… till I …

Embraced in mountain’s love and home,
adrift in summer’s thermal thrill,
returned His gentle whispered thoughts
suspended ‘bove the alpine rill.

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Blushing Dawn

In gentle rose of dawning light
this alpine meadow sings,
beckoned from her blushing right
to call to day, all things.

From quiet start to fluttered hurry,
all call from one to one to one,
till caught in flustered din and flurry
break the dawning peace in sum.

The forest floor reborn a-wild,
with subtle hints to work yet done,
casts the sun a dimpled smile
and to her burgeoned beauty come.

‘Tis simple best
this sweetly dressed
expression herein lain,
that she embrace
each living face
and with their souls remain.

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Winter Cabin

Quiet here the moments furl
about my simple chair, reposed,
here where evening’s fire curls
blend hearth in liquid care, enclosed
by subtle hints of winter’s scent,
cookies baked, a few to take,
sweat wisp of smoke from fire stoked,
on mountaintop so juxtaposed.

Winter’s love in deepest mirth
beneath a snow white blanket swoons,
delivers sweet the season’s birth
bathed in blues of silver moon,
as snowflakes drift in subtle gift
and sparkle rare in moonlight’s care,
lend this peace a warm release
while midnight calls too soon.

Silent now the dying ember
stretches long this winter’s day,
lonely cabin, here deep in timber
where all my better angels play,
now dims the night in candle light,
cures the scent in tallow spent,
so draws a sigh from dog and I,
toward sleep we soon will stray.

In hesitation’s calm collection
I gather long my senses here,
of silhouetted woods reflection
‘cross the sparkled snow drifts near,
of ember’s glow and shadows low,
in flickered fight of candlelight,
of warmth that brings the kindest wings
to sleep and dreams so dear.

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Sweet Seduction

Along the blue steel thread of rails,
peace entreats my quiet wanting
in silhouetted oak tree stands
and shadows black, night’s contrast, haunting.

Waxen moon in full delight
calms November’s rolling dells,
strokes the sultry flaxen lea
to render sweet seduction’s spell.

A feathered breeze, a trembling hush
claimed in shuddering wanton fields,
where forlorn apathetic husks
sense love’s touch and so in yield.

Sweet seduction’s mercy,
before my eyes, across this vale,
thieves my lonely heart from worry
by haunting blue reflected rails
that curve the valley floor,
surrender to the sweet wood’s blind,
to mountains rise to blush once more
and there entreat her love in kind…

Beneath the stroke of naked moon,
between November’s blankets furled,
kissed by meadow’s sweetest rills
before the granite mountains curled.

Here dream do I in longing,
atop this post in autumn’s glove,
yearn to kiss her blushing flesh
and draw her close in sacred love.

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Alpine Moose

A long drawn silence hammers down
the lengthened shadows of this wood,
holds the alpine ether still
and tends the musk where once he stood.

Inadequate temporal witness I,
stumbled through his summer’s bed,
where by the sweetest creek side hush
I chanced upon the great one’s stead.

He rose in contemplation’s hold,
towering tall before my stance,
his ancient eyes of knowing claimed
this startled man with one kind glance.

Yet for a single moment stood,
as if my pounding heart to quell,
then turned through grass and broken briar
to alpine depths he knew so well.

In silent shadow’s ebbing wake
this mountain stream returns to ear,
relents to ether’s melting patience,
holds me awed and frozen here.

written in recollection of the moose I encountered, face to face, Aug 2013, Deadman Pass, CO.

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True Love’s Nature

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On noble plains of grandeur swept,
knee high grasses whose waves have kept
a softened motion ‘neath mountain spires,
perched through tree line midst God’s fire,
is where this love of ours belongs…

In alpine meadow’s fragrant blush
that sets the woods and stream to hush,
where skies transform the azure, gold,
into relief’s eternal fold
of mountain ranges long –
is there where best our love makes song.

For you, my love, have granted
such pleasures sweet this heart of mine,
and in my soul have planted
truth of love and friendship, kind,
that only nature’s wild can dress
the setting honest, when by it, blessed
our lives move on, as one in bliss
of true love’s nature and true love’s kiss.

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Autumn Moment

Summer’s stand in fading
draws a sharpness to October air,
sets azure to crystal,
relieves the azimuth arc with care,
till golden embers flit in longer
angled beams of sun and space,
peaks a sense of comfort
when breath stands white before your face…

‘Tis winter’s reach to summer’s feet
that stretches long the fall,
sets the leaves to amber
by the patience that it calls…

‘Tis season’s dark encroaching
on the lesser girth of day,
that sets a hearth of stone to warmth
and shares a cup with those who stay…

Imagination’s setting
by cigar and book and pen,
refines this sweet October night
with hope of snow and wind,
draws the richest pleasure midst
this chair and flesh to hearth,
longs to reach for timelessness
in moments caught and I a part.

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Aspen Fold

the road that beckons...

the road that beckons…

When still the summer’s air is held
and road swept dust breathes dry and fair,
when sweet the colored fall’s elixir stands
the musk to focus there
upon the change of season…

‘Tis in the alpine’s aspen folds
where mountain’s heart and nature’s soul
reveal a seam where moments hold
a secret path and reason,
as to “why” your heart is beckoned forth
to lead the path on endless course,
“why” you can’t resist the steps
that pull you toward the shadowed bend,
“why” you thrill in falling leaves
and golden light brought back again.

Drunken steps by autumn’s call
bring childish glee and fear that stalls
the moment for unknowns,
but strikes a chord of going home
when ‘round the bend the lea unfolds
beneath the mountain’s distant stance –
that there on meadow’s edge you dance
without a thought of time…

Yet still the yearning beckons on
as through the field the path lays long
and narrow –
Draws you to the forest edge
where jumping creek and hush are heard,
‘neath rustling gold and kind jay-bird –
to precipice and mountain’s ledge!

… then as you flush in hesitation… it’s there…

across the valley’s whispered song
an honest spark of soul sings on
and thrills you to the marrow!
… and with your soul entwines,
returns the truth you long to find,
graces calm your weary mind
so grants you not a care…

So should it be your soul is called,
or by September’s drive you find
that sweetest gentle winding road
that exits from the corner’s blind…
There be sure you wander wholly
to where your heart is stirred,
and find your simple nature solely
in autumn’s musk and aspen’s word…

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