Month: May 2019


westward flies the heron bird
westward to the sea
above the treelined rivers
away from you and me
beyond the dark horizon
beyond this storm drawn sky
he wings his way to sundown
to where each old day dies
belonging now to legend
to seldom reveries
he lives a dream upon the wing
to my earthbound memory.

The Virgin Path

he had not walked this way before
nor set foot upon the trail
which his ancestors travailed
a million nights ago or more
when man’s footsteps were as small
as those of beast or bird or game
without the will this wild to tame
and to make from summer, fall
so this forest waits for him
afeared of what his presence brings
for the ending does begin
when man looks on everything.