Tag Archives: Branch

Spruce Story (day 2247)

The old spruce and I sat silently
We shared secrets unspoken
We shared ground softly packed
I looked up and counted to one hundred
Each branch I gave a name
Each name remembered its origin
In the world of seven valleys
I heard ravens nesting
Squirrels chasing
And I felt each limb slowly shake
Watching each needle slowly fall
Tumbling to the palm of my hand
Which rebirthed my blessings
In each moment of doubt
Until I stood where the spruce had stood
And I inhaled deeply as the spruce had inhaled
And I listened as the spruce had listened
And I swayed as the spruce had swayed
Until the seven valleys became my valleys
And my story remained so.

Jamboree (day 2191)

Display my song upon a branch
Next to leaves that swing
I’ve become a drop of sunshine that
Is flowing through each tree.

Be my smile within a bloom
A symphony of beaming joy
I woke here with such helpful hands
Shining through in every way.

Let my movement carry energy
That floats like a gypsy bus
Side to side and turning wide
Jamboree through each squeaky hub.

A Leaf (day 2188)

Today I watched a vine unravel it’s spine
From around a savory leaf
It lightly lay it’s beating pulse
Upon a trembling leaf
And smiled as it moved up and down
Like a fox on the prowl
I watched the leaf flaunt it’s curve
And bend into the pulse
To which the vine
Gave everything
To curl it’s furthest tip
Which lingered long
About delectably exposed veins
Sliding down to the delicate joint
That held the leaf to the branch
As a suckling lifeline,
And plucked the leaf to devour it.

Long Since Traveled Familiar Trail (day 2183)

New strewn branches
Spiderwebs
Familiar roots

Calling (day 2096)

This is my calling
Run through the forest
Trails along the way
Lead me home, sometimes.

Forage some berries
Discover a toadstool
Help a little frog
Along its merry way.

Some paths grow narrow
Hardly able to walk
A step on a branch
Scares the whole flock.

And then open up
To a wide open meadow
Dig up some roots
Soil to my soul.

This is my calling
Deep winter bark
Roots on my threshold
Home in the end.

Filled (day 1739)

A long lifeless walk
Held my hand
As I began
My casually glancing around
With two by two
And one after you
In a game cat jumped over the moon.
Twigs and branches
And needles doing dances
For the stoop of my boot.
Till the hour I find
A guest on my mind,
I’ll return to an abode filled with warmth.

Mt. Fromme - Ned Tobin

Rhythmic As A Whitecap (day 1655)

Linger about a moment
Of a whitecap
Rhythmically drifting by;
One thousand times
Repeated
Upon my exhale
As dull branches
Sweep barren grounds
Of my soul

West Coast Tofino Ucluelet - PNW

The Sapling and I (day 919)

Windy meadows that long ago
Were stripped of all their life:
Elegant firs, long needled pine
And birch that peels around.

They’ve all been reaped
Into a heap;
Grinding and turning
Paving and spreading
Strip malls and sidewalks.

All in the name of progress.
In belief of and for
Settlers heading west.

But where was I at these round tables
Where was my voice of reason?
Was I asked for my steady thoughts
To protect our mother’s children?

For now I am to blame.
Here to suffer
To pull at breath and
Leave my anguish at the door;
Kick off my factory shoes,
Step into my factory warmth,
And yawn my factory toil.

I am not anymore the savior sun;
A strong branch upon a tree
Deep within the forest.

But I am a sapling reaching up
Into the sky above.
A sign of life, natures life:
An orb of sweet Gaia

2013.05.09 - Prince George Spring (63 of 100)

Röbert Mönchkin (day 778)

It isn’t that the seasons take away my pleasures I bask in in the summer; running carelessly about the fences and jumping from branch to branch. No.

It isn’t the shade from the sun, nor the darkest of clouds that hover over horizons I see from the top of these branches in this place I call home. No.

It isn’t the infestation of caterpillars that slither their way into every single crevice I’ve ever held dear to me and my family, eating away the lush green leaves that paint the exterior of my home. No.

It isn’t the bears the rummage in my little piles of stores I’ve secured away for winter lengths, nor the beavers that take my home for theirs. No.

It’s that blasted dog that jumps every single time he sees me, barreling away at the highest speeds to bark me all the way up the tree.

But, I suppose that I do provoke him with my constant chattering and taunting…

aSquirrelII

Röbert can be purchased here.