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Laughing uproariously, it is a trickster. It wraps itself around us and tarries, not to do us harm but to bless us. To take to the woods,...

Like mist our sense of thanks can drift away. We lose perspective. We forget we are blessed. We allow ourselves to be trampled by the...

Warbling up great canyons, drifting over silent spaces of time. When the moon fills, when the night is soft, loon laughter transforms...

Softly Water teases the shore. Midnight embraced. The fawn’s gentle passage Across the divide between Sea and space. Gently it massages...

The old chasm finds us, The old circle of rising And greeting Is lost to the winds. Memories virtue remains But its edges grow dim. So...