It will bide its time

(Volcanoes Trilogy)

The story begins.
A seed falls in a crevice --
that could be the end.

But it is deep down --
not destined to be eaten.
It will bide its time.

Winds blow and snow falls.
It is a living thing and
it will bide its time.

Sun scorches, fire burns,
It is lieing protected.
in its deep repose.

Ash and dust blow in.
Rain falls -- the stones shed water
into its crevice.

The seed awakens.
What bad fortune placed it there?
How can it survive?

It bursts its hard shell
and sends out tentative roots.
Time is critical.

A toehold is gained
and soon it secures its own place
deep among the rocks.

A shoot, a small leaf,
and a thorny twig appear
reaching for the light.

Conditions are right.
A little rain and sunlight
is good - not too much.

So many things could
go wrong - but it is alive
and it will bide its time.

An accident of
placement and sheer persistence
brought it this far.

Adversity and
determination combined
with fortune win out.

Life is very hard.
Not all struggles end this way.
It's good that some do.

Xantico's Daughters

(Volcanoes Trilogy)

 

 

 

 

This place is fire born --

of riven stone and sulfur -

smoke and flying ash.

 

Xantico’s daughters,

Vulcan's spawn – the Three Sisters

bide their time alone.

 

 

 

Visitors are few.

Unnoticed, they bear witness

and will keep secrets.

 

Only the soft breeze

and solitary footsteps

disturb the quiet.

 

“Who is this pilgrim?

What quest brings you here today?”

I come seeking peace.

 

 

 

This desert, blessed by

rain from the south, is transformed.

Once brown, but now green.

 

 

 

This place of beauty

is now dressed in flowers but

just for a few days.

 

 

“A place of beauty?

...Ah, yes - we remember you.

You’ve been here before.”

 

 

 

I will be quiet.

I will not disturb your rest.

Your secrets are safe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who is to say now?

Who is to say now
what questions remain unasked?
Our time came and went.

The years filled our days
with so much to remember.
Such joy to recall.

We were of one mind.
One soul. No pain between us.
No regretful days.

So how can this be?
What unfulfilled yearning now?
Were you happy then?

Her smiling eyes say “yes”.
And our spirit hearts rejoice
even now with love

The Promise of Rain

Low distant thunder.
Winds blow the curtain and bring
the sweet scent of pine.

We are teased at first
but the desert clouds relent.
Raindrops fall on sand.

Up on the far hill
Carlos Rey stands desert watch
and waits for the rain.

The old Juniper
outlived his sons and daughters
born in distant days.

Raindrops and thunder -
Carlos Rey shakes in the wind.
and drinks it all in.

On the Death of a Friend

My dear neighbor died.
His departure was too soon.
He left a huge hole.

I knew him one year.
I enjoyed every minute
We spent together.

Gone. Unexpected.
He left us in disbelief -
How could this happen?

So the brightness dimmed.
So we grieve. But we push on
Enriched by his life.


Remember the man.
The husband. The grandfather.
Dog walker. Our friend.

Fire down below

The forest consumed
by fire-blackened, molten stone
pouring from earth's wound.

The wound slowly heals
but leaves scabs of knife-edge rock.
The wind brings new life.

Moondance

Moonrise. Mountain wall.
The moon and mountain dance in
an ageless ballet