A WALK AMONG THE GIANTS

 

Joyce Kilmer began his now famous poem:

I think that I shall never see…a poem as lovely as a tree

and the older I grow…the more I walk among them…

the more with Mr. Kilmer I agree

His beautifully simple poem…written in 1913…as a tribute to the tree…is what brought us to the Joyce Kilmer forest…in Robbinsville…NC.

After a beautiful drive in the country…at the entrance we arrived

and we realized we were here 30 years ago..with our children and Deborahs’s dad while he was still alive.

As the memories washed over us…memories with one another we exchanged…we thought how our life is so different 30 years later…but this forest hasn’t changed.

In truth…the trees have grown a little older…some have fallen…and their wrinkles aren’t as small…but when we stopped to think about it…that has happened to us all.

It’s a virgin forest (meaning it’s never been logged)…and is truly a sight to behold…There are 100 species of trees…some standing 100 feet tall…many over 400 years old.

As we began to walk among these giants…we didn’t travel very far…before once again realizing how huge are the trees that surround us…and how minuscule we are.

We’d find one of these behemoths…then at it’s base the two of us would stop…We’d turn our eyes to the heavens…but we could not see the top.

We noticed each tree is like a high rise apartment…some standing alone…others interweaved…with a host of animals, insects and plants living among their bark, their branches…their leaves.

Walking in the midst of these ancient giants…we felt blessed…we felt a joy within us release…..our hearts seemed to beat a little slower and our inner souls found peace.

His poem is not a very long poem…it ends as it began…quite lyrically…stating: poems are made by fools like me…but only God can make a tree

We added new memories to our old ones…

in a virgin forest we once visited 30 years before……

and as I try to put our feelings into a poem…

Mr. Kilmer I couldn’t agree with you more.

ANOTHER MOUNTAIN MORNING

 

There is a miracle that happens every morning in the mountains…a little after five.

as the evening heads to bed and the morning comes alive.

As the stars, the moon and the dark of night begin to fade…there is a stillness in the air

and in the silent, tranquil interlude…you gradually become aware

that you’re about to witness one of natures awe-inspiring gifts…

as you watch the ebony blanket of evening slowly start to lift…

and out of the evening’s residue the morning begins to peek…

and somewhere in the waning darkness…the first bird begins to speak…

She clears her throat at first, and I imagine, flaps her wings

then standing tall upon her branch she begins to sing.

Then another bird and another join in…adding their voices to the song

until the mountain is a chorus of birds…harmoniously singing along.

As night folds up her blanket…the day can now expand

and you barely have time to catch your breath as sunlight skims across the land. 

Every space that was cloaked in darkness is now bejeweled in light

and you smile at how magically and effortlessly…day replaces night.

And you feel lucky you were there to witness…a brand new day arrive…

and blessed to have experienced the wonder…when the morning comes alive.

LIFT THE CURTAIN OF SILENCE

 

Nature was created in silence…her beauty meant to endear

but if we look behind her curtain of silence…what wonderful sounds we hear.

Lift the curtain on a forest path…listen to the breeze…

pause next to a field of wildflowers…listen to the bees.

Lay your ear against the wrinkled trunks and listen to the trees

Next to a lake after a winter snow…listen to the freeze.

Stop before the opening in the rocks…listen to the cave.

Stand along the shoreline…listen to the waves.

Turn your head up to the heavens…then gently close your eyes…

listen to the clouds as they soar across the sky.

Listen to the stars at night…you can almost hear their dreams.

Linger on the riverbank…listen to the stream.

Behind her curtain of silence…nature conducts her symphony.

Behind her curtain of silence…you will find her harmony.

Behind her curtain of silence…softly filling the air…

a myriad of wonders…waiting for you there.

BUBBLES

 

What is it about bubbles…not only do they make us feel good…

but they have a way of instantly transporting us…back to our childhood.

I wonder…as we watch bubbles…soaring high up to the sky

if it’s possible to be angry when a bubble passes by.

One of the things I love about the mountains…about life in general, as we ascend…is all the wonders…all the surprises waiting around every bend.

We had been at the cabin for a while when as a new day before us dawned…Deborah came running out of the bedroom…she’d found a bubble wand.

The wand was filled with bubble solution…it hadn’t yet run dry

when Deborah pulled it out and said…let’s give these bubble a try.

As we watched perfect bubbles forming and floating all about

immediately our hearts opened up…and let our children out. 

We lost all track of time…the two of us…standing there…

Watching bubble after bubble dancing in the air.

Watching some soar up to the sky…trying to catch the ones that dropped…

laughing…just like children when certain bubbles popped.

Playing with the bubbles as they surrounded us was a wonderful endeavor 

while at the same serving as a reminder how nothing lasts forever.

Another way of reminding us…as countless bubbles passed

to enjoy each moment knowing…the moment will not last.

Reminding us as we grow older..to take the time play and scream and shout…

and even when there are no bubbles…to let our children out.

AWAKENED BY THE MOON

 

I must have forgotten to pull down the shade…because at a time I thought inopportune…in the early hours of the morning…I was awakened by the moon.

I tend to sleep less soundly these days…now that I’m a little older.

Perhaps that’s why I felt (or sensed) a moonbeam on my shoulder.

It was still dark when I checked the time…only half past four

so I turned away from the moonlight…determined to sleep some more.

But her moonbeams were persistent…in the window they kept peeping

so I arose when I finally realized…I was finished with my sleeping.

After the moonbeam nudged me out of bed.…

at the window I felt a gentle breeze…

and saw the moon smiling down on me

as it filtered through the trees.

I walked outside…the morning was brisk..

The night was as quiet as could be

so I sat in a rocking chair still unsure

what the moon could have wanted with me.

When my eyes adjusted to the darkness

I saw the mountains in front of me were aglow….

I realized that’s what the moon wanted…

she wanted me to enjoy her show.

She was floating in a luminous sea…a mixture of dark and light…

and only the brightest stars in the heavens…were visible in the night.

As I sat alone in the silence of the morning

watching nature’s wonders drifting by

I understood what Shakespeare meant

when he said our souls are in the sky.

And I thought what a wonderful way to wake up…

on a cool mountain morning…in June…

Tonight I’m leaving the shade up intentionally  

hoping tomorrow, 

if I’m lucky 

to be awakened, again, by the moon.

THE BEAUTY OF THE FOG

 

We went on a hike to the top of a mountain…on a morning still sprinkled with dew…

anticipating all the way up..and once at the top..we were in for some wonderful views.

We knew we would see forever…in the sky…high above the pines

but the more we walked..the more we realized nature had other designs.

A fog rolled in…obstructing our view….covering the land surrealistically 

so we focused on what was in front of us…all the things we were able to see…

We saw the beauty of the fog…the way it moves…how to the trees and mountains it clings.

We noticed how, even in the fog, flowers bloom and birds continue to sing.

We watched at times the fog soar up and other times crawl across the trees…and we wondered does the breeze control the fog or does the fog control the breeze. 

We felt the fog roll over us…like ghosts floating through the air

leaving behind a bit of dampness…on our clothes…on our hands…in our hair.

We noticed that moisture on the flowers and plants…making them shine as it helps them to grow…we saw how the fog in the distance…covered the land like a blanket of snow… 

We noticed there was magic in the fog…magic we never knew…

turning trees into magicians as they faded in…and then out of our view.

We found more magic in a large rock surrounded by rose petals…

and although the ceremony was through…

we imagined a couple standing there…

smiling…both of them saying I do.

Yes…we went looking for beauty on the mountain….

we had a certain kind of beauty in our heads…

but unable to see the beauty we came for…

we found our beauty in the fog instead.

JUST ANOTHER CAMPFIRE

 

It was just another campfire the old couple sat around…listening to the crackling of the wood…watching the flames push off the ground

Watching as sparks break off from the fire to be free…to fly…to soar…just another campfire…like so many campfires they've sat around before.

At this campfire it was just the two of them…in the silence of the night…snuggled next to one another…faces illuminated by the light.

If you were blessed to be nearby…and watching for a while

you’d have seen them close their eyes…

you’d have seen them laugh and smile.

You’d have seen how just another campfire has the ability to transcend...into memories of other campfires…with family and friends

If you’d have been inside their minds…you’d see them as children in all their glories…you’d see them toasting marshmallows…feeling the warmth…telling stories.

You’d see them with their own family…you’d watch the sweet togetherness a campfire brings…before life and time and growing up…chances everything.

You’d sit in wonder around this campfire…realizing why they love it so…knowing it is more than how the flames shoot up and oscillate to and fro.

You’’d see it’s not as just another campfire…but a campfire so boundless and vast…it has a way of connecting…through its flames…to all their campfires of the past.

A MOUNTAIN RAIN

 

The sun has surrendered to the clouds…now only a suggestion of the mountains remain…as we sit upon the porch swing…and listened to the rain.

There is a rhythm to the sound…it rises and falls upon the breeze

and we marvel how some raindrops find their way onto the ground

while others linger in the trees.

We find ourselves drawn to our bed…as raindrops cascade from the sky

the soft music they’re composing…creating the perfect lullaby…

As we close our eyes and listen…to her music soft and deep

we find the melody so soothing…we drift…slowly…off to sleep…

Until we hear a tapping…upon our window pane

and we smile when we realize…we’ve been awakened by the rain…

We walk back to the porch swing…as the rain beguiles and enthralls

and we find strength among the raindrops…for they are not afraid to fall…

And we find happiness in the rain…where others may find gloom

for we understand the sky must weep…if the flowers are to bloom.

The rain stops as quickly as it began…the mountains all return

as nature once again reminds us…of all we have to learn…

Like how, in a gentle afternoon shower,

there is so much to be gained

if one stops to take a moment…

and listen to the rain.

PRISCILLA AND THE LUNA MOTH

I believe in signs from the universe…in karma…in love and harmony…

I believe they lead to questions we can’t explain…like synchronicity.

I love the way the word synchronicity flows out from may lips; 

there’s a beauty in its inflection…

and when it comes to those coincidence...sweet perplexity in their connection.

You’re thinking about a person and they phone…or they appear.

You’re humming a song then turn on the radio and it’s the next song that you hear.

We don’t how these happen…how these phenomena come and go

Is it possible there are mysteries in the universe we’re not meant to know?

Years ago Deborah’s sister died suddenly…after her funeral we went to our cabin in NC.

at the cabin our sadness was interrupted by a bit of synchronicity.

That evening a luna moth perched herself upon our door

In all our years together we’d never seen one there before.

Was this just a random visit from a moth…or is it possible…could it be…

this was Pris’s spirit stopping on her way to heaven…a little synchronicity.

It’s been a number of yeas since Pris passed away…I can’t remember how long it’s been…and since that day we’ve never seen a luna moth again…

Since the cabin’s grown a little older…we’ve worked hard this summer to bring it back to the way it used to be…As we were working Deborah said, “The cabin’s looking good…I hope Priscilla would agree?”

We sat down to take a break from painting…on the porch…with a glass of tea

when in between us…in all her splendor…sat our synchronicity.

A luna moth…we don’t know where she came from…she was as beautiful as can be

“There’s the answer to your question." I said, “I’m pretty sure Priscilla would agree”.

Were these two random occurrences…or did Priscilla find a way 

to reach us once she passed…of course…it’s hard to say.

But I believe as we live each day…as we dance our daily dance…there are portions of our life left up to mystery and chance…

Which is why I believe that wasn’t just a random luna moth sitting between Deborah and me….it was Pris reminding us of the power of love…and the beauty of synchronicity.

 

A FATHE'S THANK YOU

 

There is no doubt fatherhood is like a roller coaster ride

Filled with as many highs and lows a father can abide.

Along the way you feel every emotion a father’s ever had…

and you know it’s all been worth it when you hear…I love you Dad!

So let me take a moment to thank…with love and pride

my children who have taken me on this roller coaster ride.

We’ve been through hills and valleys…and though we’re not sure what’s around the bend…I, for one, am hoping this roller coaster never ends…

One final thank thank you to my children…you may ask…why bother…

Because without my children…

when you think about it 

I would have never been a father.

GOOD ENOUGH

 

Today we celebrate all tenses of fathers…

every father ever amassed…

We celebrate future fathers in waiting….

present fathers…

and with this poem…all fathers who have passed.

GOOD ENOUGH

His children gathered at his funeral…tears rolled down their cheeks

they had chosen the eldest among them…and she began to speak.

“When we let our memories take us,” she began, 

“as far back as we can see…

we remember Dad always saying, 

‘if you do your best…that’s good enough for me’.”

When we brought home a school paper marked with an A, B, C or D, 

he’d smile and say, ‘if you did your best…that’s good enough for me’.

Through all our successes and failures…there our dad would be 

‘if you did your best’ he’d say with a smile, ‘that’s good enough for me’.

There was no pressure in his words…

if you do your best…that’s good enough for me

but they always made us want to do better…

to be the best that we could be.

So Dad, as we say goodbye

we know you wouldn’t want us to make a fuss

Thanks for being the best Dad you could be….

which was always more than good enough for us.

A QUESTION TO FATHERS

 

It was the day before Father’s day…when…once composed

to a room full of fathers…this question was posed.

Since you are ALL fathers…I’m sure you’ll be glad…

to answer this question: What makes a wonderful dad?

“I need to make a lot of money.” said one of the dads.

To give my children all the things thatI never had.”

“I need a big house with lots of rooms…and a big lawn outside…

The bigger the house the better.” Another dad replied.

So many of the dads associated money with happiness..and so many more seemed in sync….until one dad stepped up with an answer that made all the other dads think.

“I want to give my children my time.” He said, “I want all my children to know…that I will always be there when they need me…I”ll be there to watch them all grow.”

So dads on this day before Father’s Day wherever you wander…perhaps what makes a wonderful dad is a question to ponder.

Your answer may lie…nearby…of all places…in the eyes of your children and the smiles on their faces.

You’ll find their eyes filled with love and their smiles easily freed…when you give them…not all the money…but all the time that they need.

HOW THEY SEE THE WORLD

 

He marvels at her child-like innocence that, not once, in their 33 years together has waned…he loves how she is impulsive, spontaneous…so easily delighted… while he’s a little more restrained.

When they share a sunrise or sunset…she can’t control her excitement…as if the sun, off her soul, is reflecting…he’s a little more reserved…as if the sun’s beams he’s collecting.

When they hear birds welcoming in the morning as sun replaces moon…she happily sings along while he, quietly smiling, listens to the tune.

When sorrow enters their life…when faced with sadness or dismay…he’s amazed at how easily she can cry…she at how gently he wipes her tears away.

When he’s asked…what is their secret…how has their bond lasted so long…how have they persevered for 33 years…what’s made their love so strong.

He says, “the answer is in how differently we see the world as together we travel through it…not necessarily in what we’re seeing…but more in how we view it”.

“When you discover beauty in the world,” he says, “at whatever beauty you happen to be glancing…if you share the different ways you see it…that beauty you’re enhancing.”

We’ve been blessed to enhance each other’s beauty

by the different ways we see…

as she sees all the artistry within the world

and I see its poetry.”

I AM A PICNIC BASKET

 

I am a picnic basket…yes…you heard me right

I am a picnic basket and, with your permission, this poem…I’m going to write.

I know Jim usually writes here…but I thought it about time…

I give it a go…after all…how hard can it be to rhyme! 

I want to tell my story…of the things I hear and see…

as I’ve spent my life in the mountains carrying picnics for my family.

One of the things I love about my family…I can’t tell you how often they repeat it…is when they pack me up with food…find a spot…unpack me..then sit around and eat it.

Parents and families have filled me…children…grandchildren…friends…I often wonder if they…like me…hope these moments never end.

As I sit and watch the frivolity…I think how lucky can I be…

knowing I’m at the center of it all…knowing there is no picnic without me.

I’m put away at the end of summer…but I am not concerned…

for I anticipate the smiles that greet me when my family returns. 

When you look at me you might not realize I’m not as young as I appear

I’ve been carrying food and fixings for my family for over 30 years.

I’ve been filled with all kinds of food…Oh the places I’ve gone…and the wonders I continue to see…

And I’m not quite sure when I stopped being a picnic basket and became part of the family.

But I am a part of the family…I hope everyone agrees…because that’s what happen when a picnic basket gets infused with memories. 

I guess I’ve made my point…my feelings I’ve tried to convey…

You know everything I want you to know…I’ve said what I came here to say.

Tomorrow I’ll give the pen back to Jim…

but any way you choose to view it

This rhyming thing isn’t hard at all…

even a picnic basket can do it.

SHATTERPROOF

 

I loved the times when our family was young…everyone under the same roof…

I felt we were invincible…indestructible…I felt we were shatterproof.

That feeling is often tested over the years…as many parents have known…because one day you turn around…and your once young children are grown.

There was a time when it was easy to get our family together…when the family was complete…We’d open the front door and holler…”Hey everyone…it’s time to eat!”

But when children grow up and move away…when they’re living behind different doors…hollering, “It’s time to eat!” doesn’t complete the family anymore.

Now we still make plans to get together…and we hope the family’s complete…when we sit around the table and say…”It’s time to eat!’.

But that’s not always the case…it seldom goes according to plan…so we’ve learned to grab parts of our family…whenever…wherever we can.

We recently got together with two of our three children and one of our four grandchildren…there were smiles on our faces even though our other son and other grandchildren were all in different places.

I know they would have joined us…if only they were able…

but alas…when we all sat down to eat…there were only five of us at the table.

But in a way we all were there…the family sitting in front of me…and the family I could not see…because I’ve found, over the years, my family goes everywhere with me.

On those rare occasions we are all together…I love to sit back…smile and stare…and if anyone is missing…I love to sit back and imagine them there.

It’s not quite the same I know…but immediately after they all grew….I learned to enjoy who’s here and imagine the rest…because that’s what parents do.

It’s the way I keep my family complete…

when we can’t be together under the same roof…

it’s my way of keeping our family invincible…

indestructible

my way to keep them shatterproof.

SUNSET IN A BIRD

 

We went to the top of a mountain…up a mountain road we wound our way

because we know it’s the perfect place to watch the sun set on the day.

We never tire of watching a sunset…for each one is unique 

The sky is ever-changing as the sun and clouds play hide-and-seek.

There is something soothing…mesmerizing…watching another day go to bed…as colors stretch across the sky in shades of yellow, orange and red.

I guess you could say, as far as sunsets, Deborah and I are fans…but this evening as we stood atop the mountain the sun and clouds had other plans.

This evening’s sun was bashful…she seemed a lttle shy…choosing to hide behind the clouds as they spread across the sky.

But we were not upset…on a mountain top…surrounded by the trees..

for even a sunset with no sun…is a beautiful sight to see.

With no sunset to watch…our eyes found so many other sights to see…

For instance…a group of little birds as they landed in a nearby tree.

They were a little distance away but we noticed how the tree they landed in shook…

so I ran to the car, got our binoculars…so we could get a closer look

There on the mountaintop…unable to watch the sunset we adore…

we saw, instead, a group of birds we had never seen before.

A google search led us to cedar waxwings…and I admit we were both stunned

because the cedar waxwing has the same colors of our bashful setting sun.

The little orange atop its head looked kind of like a veil…

The red showed up on the tip of its wings…they yellow on its tail.

To top it off…we were serenaded by this previously, to us, unseen bird

with one of the softest sweetest birdsongs we have ever heard.

Yes, we came to the mountain to watch a sunset…

but when that sunset was obscured….

we were blessed…

oh how we were blessed

to find our sunset in a bird.

DO SPIDERS ENJOY THE SUNRISE

 I noticed it quite early…in the cool of a morning breeze

around the corner of our cabin…the sun…peeking through the trees.

Only when the sun is rising does she send out these mesmerizing rays…

Shafts of light that brighten up our morning…saying, come out play.

And there…illuminated by the sun…fluttering in the breeze

I saw a spider in her web…suspended from the trees.

As I made my way for a closer look…by its beauty I was stunned

and I wondered if the spider, like me…was enamored by the sun.

Is the spider even capable of seeing beauty through her eyes?

Does she dance within the sun’s rays as it rises in the sky?

Does she understand how day and night rise…and how they ebb?

Does she realize…while she’s creating…the beauty of her web?

Does she appreciate that beauty once its symmetry is done…

as it glows in the early morning…illuminated by the sun?

I wanted to ask the spider all these questions…but as the sun rose in the sky…I realized it was best to enjoy the moment and not to question why?

So there we stood as the day awakened…as silent as can be…

Bathed in this daily miracle…the spider…her web…and me.

Perhaps one day she’ll share her secrets with me…before my life is done

until then…I am perfectly content 

sharing, 

with her, 

the sun.

HER DAUGHTER AND THE FIREFLIES

 

She is often asked for the secret to happiness…

Her answer comes as a surprise…

for she always tells the story 

of her daughter 

and the fireflies.

“My daughter used to chase fireflies out on our front lawn

back and forth she’d pursue them…as their lights blinked off and on.”

“She’d turn this way and that way, she’d walk, she’d hop, she’d run.

She was great at chasing fireflies…but she never caught a one.”

“Then one night around the campfire…after she had given up the chase

a firefly landed on her arm and a smile lit up her face.”

“Look Momma!” she said look at my arm…look…look…can you see?

I wonder if all the time I was chasing fireflies…they were chasing me?”

“And it wasn’t until she stopped chasing fireflies”, the old woman said

her face now beaming bright

“That she found the happiness that eluded her…

only then did she catch the light”.

People who have heard her tell this story

speak of how her cheeks turn rosy and a gleam comes to her eyes

as she smiles telling the story

of her daughter…

and the fireflies.

WAS IT JUST A DREAM

 

During the day I don’t think much about ghosts…perhaps by the sun I’m blinded…

but in the quiet ebony of the evening…I’m a little more open minded.

I awoke in the middle of the night…(when you’re older you’ll understand)

and was immediately taken aback… when my eyes…the front room scanned.

The room was supposed to be empty…but I was suddenly aware

shrouded in a hazy glow…Deborah’s mom…sitting in the rocking chair.

I’m not sure if she noticed me…in the early morning…long before the dawn

but after closing my eyes and reopening them…Deborah’s mom was gone.

Instantly I doubted myself…

Was it as real as it seemed?

Did I see Deborah’s mom sitting there…or was it just a dream?

I’m pretty sure I saw her…

which made me wonder once she was out of sight…

if Deborah’s mom doesn’t often come to visit her old cabin in the night.

Does she seek out the peace and comfort of that old rocking chair…

to revisit her old memories and feel the love still floating in the air?

Does she sit in the same chair Deborah sits in…to be reminded her how our lives are intertwined…does she smile as she remembers all the memories she left behind?

I like to think I saw her, if only for a moment, sitting in that chair…

but if it wasn’t her…if it was just a dream…I truly do not care….

Because if she was a dream or if I saw her…coming down from heaven for a rest…

Either way…I doesn’t matter…either way…I feel blessed.

Still I asked myself…was it a dream…but any doubt I’m now removing…

If it was a dream then why…

long after she seemed gone

was that rocking chair still moving?