This is a reworking of a poem I wrote a couple of months ago, after visiting an old friend in Arizona. These gorgeous trees surrounded our camp site. A night by a campfire, sharing sorrows and burdens with an old friend, is one of the best things in life imho. Thanks to Charles, the reluctant poet   for inviting me to join ‘the back side of the night’ theme started by The sailor poet.  I really appreciate their encouragement, as well as that by Davy at Davy D blog.  Thanks Guys!



How those maudlin woods enticed us

adorned so enchantingly with unprecipitation

and the black of trees’ core,

begging interpretation from the sympatheticly dressed.

But we decided not to indulge them.


maybe us.

We held hands instead.

And ran through.


to the back side of the night

where together we watched

the eyelid opening at horizon,

where we no longer dream

of windows wiping clean…


Recurring Dream

Christian, personal, Poetry


your name

written so beautifully on the map

to leave a lasting impression

and reminds me of a song

(I never understood),

your people so rare

they’re fireflies as we pass

filling my eyes with tears of relief,

the embrace of the scent of a dreamed past.

this floury cloud

clothes me in the silk

of your colours undiminished

by winter’s gloom –

these gifts so sharply edged

but now willingly, intuitively blurred and fall softly

into these waiting arms of gratitude

(this video is beautiful. And I agree with the sentiment of the video producer, no one place is God’s country. Well, except that Sedona, may, just may, have made me question that a little…)