When we take our walk in the morning…(something we’ve been doing for many years)

We’re amazed by the number of people who run by with gadgets in their ears…


We don’t know what they’re listening to…on whatever route they’re taking

but we do know they are missing all the sounds that nature’s making.


They could be listening to the frogs, and crickets…the buzzing of the bees

They could be hearing the music of the wind as it whistles through the trees.


They could be listening to the singing of birds 

in the trees and in the skies

a multitude of unique melodies that delightfully harmonize.


And even when the birds are silent…when they’re in no mood to sing

If they listen closely as they fly by…they could hear the flapping of their wings.


They could be listening to the ocean waves as they rhythmically push on shore

some days they seem to whisper…other days…they roar.


They could be listening to thunder approaching…thinking it sounds like a distant train

They could be hearing the tintinnabulation on a roof as they take shelter from the rain. 


Yes, I imagine if they began their day

with nature’s music in their ears…

perhaps they too would walk in wonder

as we have for many years.



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Growing up there was this tree in my back yard…

She was an oak…it seems to me.

And it’s amazing what I learned about life..from climbing that old tree.


From her branches I would watch the sun rise and set…much to my delight…

As she taught me how lovely is the daytime…and how beautiful the night. 


She taught me no matter how daunting the task…not to give up…to never stop

for if you keep on climbing…one day you’ll make it to the top.


She taught me about friendship…her limbs guiding me when things went well…

Supporting me those time I slipped…catching me when I fell.


She showed me how to live in harmony with the land…

that there’s no need for high acclaim…

She taught me how to love a world…where no two trees are the same.


In summer she shaded me from heat…in winter she let sun in to keep me warm…

She taught me If I’m strong enough…I can weather any storm.


I’d find support in her when I was happy…and solace when I was sad.

She taught me never to lose face or heart…that good times follow bad.


She taught be about equality and balance…because when I’d bring friends and we’d compete…

No one climbed her any faster…than Sally from down the street.


She taught me patience, love and kindness…She boosted my self-esteem…

She’s where I learned to trust myself…She’s where I learned to dream.


And though it’s been many years since I last climbed her…

her lessons have remained with me…

lessons I learned while entwined in the branches 


of that old climbing tree,  


On my walk this morning…I was thinking about my poem

when I got caught out in the rain…about halfway from my home.


Halfway from where I started…halfway yet to go…

so I kept on walking and before I knew it…I was soaked from head to toe.


You see, it was a humid morning…so the rain…I didn’t mind

in fact I had to smile as the shower snuck up from behind.


And, you see, it was still quite dark this morning…so about the rain…I didn’t whine

as it glistened in the streetlights…causing everything to shine.


And you see, the rain came quietly…so about it…I didn’t frown

as I walked in the silence of the morning…and watched it gently floating down.


When I reached home, I was dripping wet and as I started to open the door

I noticed it was still raining…so I decided to walk some more…


Because how many moments in your life…can you be entertained

by walking in the darkness…immersed in a morning rain?


And besides, if I didn’t get caught in the rain this morning…

halfway from my home

I would have missed the beauty of that moment…


and the inspiration for this poem.

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I love to watch the morning…to sit out in the breeze…

and watch the clouds caress the mountains

and leaves billow on the trees.


The bats, who only the night before

were trying hungrily to be fed,

see the light and now with bellies full

are heading off to bed.


The crickets, who in the darkness

were the loudest sounds that could be heard,

are ready to relinquish their melody

to the singing of the birds.


And the birds, who soundly slept the night away,

now slowly open their eyes

and, realizing it’s morning,

stretch their wings and fly.


The morning fills her canvas beautifully…

painting trees and mountains and glens…

then, not satisfied with her first attemp,

paints them all again.


In fact she never seems too happy

with her painting at first sight

as she’s constantly changing brush strokes…

Moving shadows…shifting light.


Yes I could sit our here all morning

watching the morning adjust her hue…

listening to the ever changing sounds around me…

in fact…

I think that’s just what I will do.





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In geography it’s called a confluence.

It’s such a lovely word.

It’s where two bodies of water come together

and meet to form a third.


The geography is not specific…it can be two rivers…or it can be a few

and I think such a lovely word…can be used for people too.


When a family comes together…memories are shared and hearts are warmed

and in that moment of togetherness…a confluence is formed.


When old friends come together…smiles are shared and memories related

and in that moment of affection…a confluence is created


Individually we are wonderful creatures

as we flow along our space

but when we come together

something magical takes place.


We flow into one another…and something wonderful transcends

for we don’t know where our river starts…or where their river ends.


Yes, I think confluence is an enchanting phenomenon…

though it’s easy to explain…

how…when two or more bodies come together…


no two bodies leave the same.

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I was walking in a forest when I stepped out of the trees

and saw a field of sunflowers dancing in the breeze.


I stopped what I was doing…I was suddenly entranced

and I wondered if it was sunflowers that first enticed people to dance. 


I was walking early one morning when what did I espy

but a mix of beautiful color's lighting up the sky.


And I stopped what I was doing…I felt a little faint

and I wondered if it was a sunrise that first enticed people to paint.


I was walking down a quiet path when my mind was drawn upwards

to the treetops where I was mesmerized by the singing of the birds.


And I stopped what I was doing…that early morn in Spring…

and I wondered if it was birds that first enticed people to sing.


I was walking by a mountain creek…as if caught in a dream

when I heard the melody of the water as it gently flowed downstream.


And I stopped what I was doing…as the water flowed away

and I wondered if it was the music of the stream that first enticed people to play.


Now when I look for inspiration…I remember where I was…

when I was out there walking…


for that’s what nature does.

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As I watched a storm cross the mountains yesterday then move off to the plain..

I thought: it’s not the thunder and lightning that grows the flowers

but the gentleness of rain.


And it made me wonder if we’ve been confused…if we’re getting the message wrong

that it’s not the loud, the brash, the cruel…but the gentle that is strong.


Is there not the roughest soil that a gentle rain can’t smooth?

Is there not the deepest heartache that a gentle touch can’t soothe?


Is there not the deepest sadness that can’t be eased with a gentle rhyme?

Is there not the strongest will that can’t be bent with the gentleness of time?


Don’t the full branches gently bow so we can pick apples off the trees?

And who hasn’t been cooled in the heat of day by a gentle summer breeze?


Gentleness is all around us…if we stop and look a while

A gentle walk, a gentle word, a gentle squeeze…a smile…


Perhaps the value of a life… is in something we already know…


How gently we live…how gently we love…and how gently we let go.

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Fog enveloped us this morning…it was a beautiful sight to see

as it blanketed the mountain…the cabin and the trees.


I remembered back to when I was a child…when I first saw fog..and I…

thought fog was just a bunch of clouds that had fallen from the sky.


I didn’t know the science then…it’d be years till I was told…

I thought it was only Mother Nature…breathing in the cold.


Back then I didn’t take notice how it cloaked the ground, the ponds, the logs

Back then I didn’t understand there was beauty in the fog.


Now I know the pleasure of playing in the sun

Of counting stars in the evening sky once the day is done.


Of dancing in the rain…of listening to the frogs…

Of feeling the mist upon my face while walking in the fog.


I’ve learned there’s beauty in the silence…in ways we cannot see

In the fog, the rocks, the clouds, the sky…the flowers and the trees.


Fog reminds me life is ephemeral…when surrounded at the break of the day

I know, if I wait long enough…the fog will fade away.


And when it lifts there is no telling the wonders I will feel

As I see waiting under…the colors she reveals.


Today when I look out on a morning and I see fog…I sigh


For once again I’m happy the clouds have fallen from the sky…

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Have you ever watched whales sleep? What a wonderful adaptation.

They float effortlessly in the water… a kind of suspended animation.


It seems we’re similar in a myriad of ways

with our companions of the deep.

not the least of these…

is the way in which we sleep


We are both beautiful in sleep…

A time when our worries and troubles cease.

We become united in our serenity

our silence, our solitude, our peace.


And sleep is where our dreams are made…

be they simple…or extreme.

I wonder while they’re suspended in sleep…

of what do whales dream?


Do they dream of leaving the ocean?

Do they dream of touching the stars?

Would we be surprised if they could tell us…

how their dreams are similar to ours.?


And once again we understand…we don’t have to look very far

To see how like the animals we humans truly are.


Yes…we are born, we eat, we breathe…

we love, we die…we weep.

All things we realize we share…


while watching whales sleep.

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