gold eye of the sun
reaches over mountain arm
gentle morning touch
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The position of the sun in late August here makes sunrise a delicate process. You see, the sun has already “risen” by the time it comes to Bear Farm. We are tucked into one of the mountain’s arms and the first sunlight edges leaves and needles of the tree crowns. gently.
slanting through green woods
sly streaks of sun appearing
in the textured dark
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Seeing early sun glance through woods from a window I leave the house to search. Finding beam’s end is morning’s reward.
gray light soft soothing
smell of rain floats close to me
sound of trees drinking
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Our senses welcome rain breaking a drought. It has been a very dry summer.
cloud blanket from the mountain top
reaches all the way down to me
gentle gray in ebbing light
enwraps the shoulders of my soul
the night and what awaits
are gone and I am hid
a shiver in response
at best cloud rain is gentle
settling on the skin
its spider weight unfelt until too late
deed done a feather light ganache of truth
glistens over every inch
just as tight shut childish eyes
imagine invisibility
this passage through no more than respite
as I emerge so does the world
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driving home last night after a day’s most welcome rain, at the last steep open hill, most of the mountain was hidden by clouds and mist, reaching low, a thrilling sight.
Life With Horace 