Here are cool mosses deep . . .

Here are cool mosses deep,

And thro' the moss the ivies creep,

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,

And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep...

From The Lotus-eaters by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

DRAGONFLY

Dancing on the breeze
Precious jewels flashing in the sun;
Spirals and globes hinting at sinuous movement.
I put down my camera and stop dreaming.

The Path

The path through the wood is hushed and soft.

Footsteps of man and beast

lie cushioned by ancient pine.

Centuries of fragrant needles.

The spirit of the path breathes a cool, damp sigh

turning leaves softly over;

whispering through high branches.

Gently shifting the mist.

The way of the path is blurred and smudged

with prints of hooves and paws.

Small paths leave it to explore

while it wanders gently on.

Travellers on the path step quietly. Heads lift

and eyes pierce through the trees.

Nostrils scenting, ears pricked.

They hear the path's song.

The song of the path is ancient and low.

Remembrance of bonds and affinities

forged in ancient days

reach out to touch it.

The colours of the path are earth and tree

snow and leaf. Sky and sunset

seen through bare branches

create stained glass windows.

The seasons of the path turn round and round

one upon the other.

Waking, nourishing, sleeping again

on the wheel of rolling time.

Birch

Slow arc of silver
laced with knots of grey and green.
Leaves like drops of rain.

HAIKUS:

Bare branches and twigs
Stained glass windows in the sky;
Silhouette on blue

.........................

Low sun stroking fur
Irish Wolfhound breathing slow;
Let sleeping dog lie