Here’s two sweet ones from my friend Bob Carlson.

Canoeing the Border

It all comes into focus here –

lost bays and calling loons ,

tough cedars and soft ferns ,

ancient dappled granite ,

endless mystic islands ,

and clear blue waters dancing

As our rhythmic paddle strokes

Glide us to an evening camp

Near a waterfall that rushes

constant through the night ,

Under a sky changing colors ,

even as we sleep .

bc

 

 Diamondhead Peak, Wyoming

Sun like a diamond

cutting the pines ,

Wind like a river ,

moving my mind ,

Across time and space ,

the fabric of life –

backward and east

point of my birth,

forward and west

point of my death –

Cutting and moving

a mountain of gems ,

Cutting and moving

until this dream ends .

bc