Treehouse

July 4th, 2025

Layers

Of branches and leaf

A see-through roof

In the trees

I lay

The voice of an angel

Shining through the fireworks' blare and whistle of crickets

The warmth of her weight

I look into the shadows

And they look back at me

An acknowledgement

Away from my eyes

The moon says hello

A gentle light

A gift bestowed

Inseparable from its absence;

I see it on the walls

A comforting blanket for the obscured

The aroma of cedar

sways in my breath

Lulling me to the beat of the present

And only as I wake do I begin to dream

Sunset in The Land of Deers

The waves dance, 

Some in unison,

Some in their own rhythm,

But fundamentally, they are all free —

Both violent and gentle,

Embody wrathful grace;

Softly, our light kisses the horizon;

A reassuring goodbye,

The sun braces for one last waltz,

As the waves continue to dance into the night;

Light is gone before I know it —

I expect sadness, and in its absence I find reassurance,

Almost as if the waves bathed me in it as the sun sailed away;

Telling me not to worry, 

Gently, that I will see it again tomorrow

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

On the ride home, 

In the back of the urban carriage —

Despite the blasting of the speaker

The roaring of the road,

The commotion of the engines,

And the whispers of the wind among the open air;

It was quiet —

A lingering stillness,

Carried from the shore,

Caught in my gaze;

Finding refuge in my heart

Communion

Little gatherer,

In the dew-freckled grass,

Trotting like waves

As the sun seeps in,

So does life —

And before my eyes,

Nature comes out to play

Silent Dancer

Your green hair still, 

As the morning wind has yet to take flight;

A silhouette I know too well —

Rigid and free-flowing hips,

Dancing through the day and night,

Graceful and pure;

Your figure — 

Enduring and beautiful;

My eyes caught you in the act

This precious image —

A welcome sight to my sun-stroked breath

One I can depend on,

But must hold onto deeply today

For enduring does not mean unchanging

And nature will take its course

Silent dancer, 

Both home and witness to the noise

For you are the reason

And In the morning following your departure,

Your echo must be living proof

The noises will still flourish