The Voice Of Hidden Falls
When the clouds part
above the Half Dome
and the hum of dawn
touches the air I hear
a tumbling from the
heavens when Hidden
Falls speak inviting me
past the bridges where
the trails to the waterfall
meet. It tells me of the
cool mountain grass
and why the blackbird
ecstatically sings praising
the sunlight like pine
forests do surrounded
in green, their saplings
so gay they spread
their limbs when the
wind rushes in caresssing
their leaves.
The Gentle Sequoias
In the golden veils
of sunlight twilight
layers of mist in
Wawona slowly halo
the giant sequoias
like a delicate wish,
the majestic redwoods
wet from a shadowless
rain. Listen to them
tenderly as they maturely
speak of Merced River
and the curve of moon-
light on the water when
all is quiet and nesting
pygmy nuthatches sleep.
Deep in the forest, their
treetops nearly touch
the sky while the starlight
above them shyly sparkle
as if to say they have
long kept secrets.
Summer's Doorway
Around the path on
the northern side of
Tenaya Creek its
tranquil sounds so
older than my heart,
I kneel at the water's
edge my fingers rolled
around fragrant leaves.
A slender sunset above
Clouds Rest shines
upon my stolen flowers
from Mirror Lake their
amber beauty in my
hand, now they warm
my palm, the early light
softly touching them
awakening every petal
as if they'd been asleep
before touching my skin.
I let them glide upon
the creek's pure surface
before summer's doorway
leads me to the golden
valley within.
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