A single twisted tree, all knees

and elbows, stands,

stripped  bare , right at

the ridge’s edge.

Wind and solitariness, rock

and gritty soil

work together

with this lone tree,

fashioning a strange beauty in 

the midst of  stark

surroundings, showing

what can be done.

                                                                JDG

Days after the winter storm has

passed, some of the

land still holds the

cold long after

others have let go. Whether this

is because of

position, shade,

or slant, I do

not know, but this resistance to

the gentle warmth

of a persistent

sun will soon go.

                                                          JDG

A single black crow, standing at

the road’s edge, looks

up quizzically

as I drive  past.

Just as I wonder what he found

so close to home,

he, too, might be

wondering what

I was looking for and if I

thought it could be

found  somewhere out

there , on the road.

                                                             JDG

A young iguana, perched upon

the head of an

old, smiling one,

peers out at me

from the page, and I find my thoughts

turning to what

it means to know

 you can look out

at the world from such a safe home

place and what it

means to be home

to another.

                                              JDG

Snow called out for fire and they

both called out to

us, “Come gather

with your clan. Take

your place in life’s ancient circle

and watch as we

do our outside-

inside dance of

slowly shifting light and shadow.

Slow down, snuggle

up, and enjoy

our interplay.”

                                                JDG

When I see those tiny, purple

blooms on this cold

January

day,  I  am swept

with summer warmth and know I have

 to take them home.

I give a sigh

of gratitude

for those things money  can buy , like

this tiny bit

 of summer on

 a winter day.

                                                 JDG

It’s a small thing, those red holly

berries on the

tree outside my

office window,

but on these rainy days when the

grey threatens to

seep within, they

hold fast and bright,

drawing my eyes to what is ever-

green, and cast

the day in a 

different light.

                                        JDG

When folks deny global warming

or the need for

intelligent

gun control, Ed

Murrow’s words spring to mind: “We

see the obscure

eventually;

the completely

apparent takes longer.” What is

it about what’s

clear that makes it

so hard to see?

                                                              JDG