Wednesday, September 24, 2014


for Honeybee

The Summer sunlight
gleamed on the water
like a sheet of beaten gold
emerald in the shadow of the pines.

Breathe in the smell of the forest,
the smoke from wildfires
that color the night sky
too far away for evacuation
and the dust of dried pine needles
and the crisp winter of juniper berries
breathe in, and in, and in

You will have to leave someday
but the birds still sing,
the stream glitters and gurgles
the little cabin in the woods
my retreat from the world
still stands secluded
waiting for a return