Winds whisper through the Aspen leaves,

sunlight smiling through the clouds,

water pouring from the mountain tops,

pure light shining in your eyes,

In Autumn Rain

I can feel His love

like falling leaves

from up above,

I reach my hand out

and take them in,

I feel a part

of everything

in Autumn Rain

Soft songs linger on the dancing wind,

laughing, rolling in the grass,

walking, running, playing, journeying

on this awesome path of life,

In Autumn Rain

I can feel His love

like falling leaves

from up above,

I reach my hand out

and take them in,

I feel a part

of everything

in Autumn Rain

Here now come with me we’ll find our way,

walking hand in hand we’ll find our way,

joyful on this Earth we’ll find our way home

In Autumn Rain

I can feel His love

like falling leaves

from up above,

I reach my hand out

and take them in,

I feel a part

of everything

in Autumn Rain

Sometimes the mountains sing my name.

Sometimes I look up at the rolling horizons that push their jagged snow covered peaks towards the endless skies of fathomless blue and I can hear the mountains singing my name.

Sometimes the wind sings my name.

Sometimes I stand on grassy hills and breath the restless wind into my restless lungs and I feel that we are the same. It stirs my hair and pulls at my clothes and I hear the wind singing my name.

Sometimes the sun sings my name.

Sometimes I follow the mighty burning sun and let it’s heat make me loose, strong, and clean. I feel it’s fingers of warmth on my shoulders, on my head and I hear the sun singing my name.

The song of life is in the mountains, in the wind, and in the sun. It sings with every glance, every breath, every step taken. It sings my name into nature and makes a home for me.

It sings your name.

Can you hear it?

I like to feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
I like to stand in the wind and feel the pull of the horizon.
I like to watch bumblebees gather pollen from wildflowers.
I like to feel sweat trickle down my temples as I push myself to run even faster.
I like to discover secrets that hide around the bends of mountain trails.
I like to make babies smile.
I like the smell of lilacs.
I like the sound of rain.

I like the color of the eastern sky at sunset.
I like Hershey’s chocolate.
I like the way it feels to walk barefoot in cool grass.
I like drums.
I like to wash my hair in ice cold river water.
I like to hold kittens.
I like to hear eagles scream.
I like to wear dresses on Sunday.
I like to sleep under the stars.
I like to rollerblade.
I like to laugh until tears come.
I like to sit around a campfire and watch for shooting stars.
What do you like?

Fingers of light spread over the eastern horizon and I am running. Air fills my lungs as I pull the earth beneath my pounding feet. The mountain before me gazes down through eyes that have witnessed the ages and I feel it’s earthy surface move with the rithm of my stride. I am home. I am running with my brother the wind. I breath his life into my own and I am made strong. The fingers of eastern light follow me. I glance back and know that they will win. They always do. The sparkling rays glide over the grassy slope warming the ground and drinking the morning dew. They pause for but a moment to caress my back then fly passed me with effortless speed. I smile and slow to a walk. I am no match for the sun. Anyway, winning was never the point.

Here is a story poem that I wrote. I’d like it to be set to music eventually. That would rock.

Where the road follows the path of the stream

dividing the valley with one great seem

there cottonwoods in sunlight gleam

a morning wakes from twilight’s dream

in the Valley of the Canyon Black

Follow this road of dusty cloud

with rocks and boulders well endowed

to find a path in scrub oak shroud

that leads to the Canyon Black

(more…)

The crickets are singing again.

The silence of winter cracks and melts

as the earth lays her great belly bare

to bask in the warmth of the life giving sun

and the crickets are singing for joy.

For the trees are dancing again.

The great branches of the mighty oak

sway in time to the cricket song

as gentle buds of delicate green

sparkle in the light of the sun

and the trees are dancing for joy

For the clouds are rolling again.

The mournful clouds roll their heaving bodies

to the distant horizon

revealing a sky of brilliant blue

that dries the tears of rain

and the clouds are rolling for joy.

The world shimmers with beauty. The light of Christ sparkles in the rivers and flashes like diamonds in the new fallen snow. The wind whispers His truth in our ears and wraps us in His arms. The trees stretch their great branches to the sky in silent worship as the celestial light of the sun glimmers on dancing leaves reminding us of what we can become if only we have eyes to see.

The One Who Remembers

He stands alone in his ancient skin

watching the thunder of change

crack the bones of forgotten ways

that crumble to dust in the wind

He walks alone to a place within

the memory of a forgotten age

and seeks the light of the beauty way

ere it crumbles to dust in the wind

I wrote this poem quite awhile ago. I was at work and wishing desperately that I could be in the mountains. It’s called Let Foot Fall Light. The painting is watercolor and prismacolor. The bird is watercolor and the background is prismacolor. You can click on the image to see it larger if you like.

Original available for purchase. (Contact sales@willowrise.com) Giclée quality prints are also available. (Please visit willowrise.com for details)

Let foot fall light on tender green

make no sound and be not seen

brush no dew from wild rose petal

quickly through the stinging nettle.

Wake not sleeping butterfly

dodge the sparrow’s watchfull eye

over pond by fallen log

stone to stone across the bog

A summer breeze, your cheeks will flush

no raven warns of broken hush

slip into the willow maze

and wrap yourself in morning haze (more…)

This little girl was painted partly from a photo and partly from my imagination. I like to do that. I like to have a photo for reference to see where shadows should fall and to keep me on track with the basic structure of the way things look but I rarely draw exactly what I see anymore. I like to merge imagination with reality to create a new reality. This girl is her own person in her own world. She has a life and a story of her own.

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Desert girl, can you see me here

through your shining eyes of black,

as there you stand on the dusty earth

with the sun upon your back?

Here I am in my modern world

a raging sea of haste

seeking wisdom through your eyes

your never-ending gaze.

Original available for purchase. (Contact sales@willowrise.com)

Giclée quality prints are also available. (Please visit willowrise.com for details)