Moonlit Midnight

As the witching hour unfolds

And crickets sing their melancholy song

Stillness of the lake reverberates

Through out the dark cloudy skies

An evil dark cloud outstretched its hands to

Choke the moon in a murky gag

The skies wait with bated breath

For their darling to be set free

As she struggles to escape her captor's clasp

Spirits of the night give their silent blessing

Whispering spells into the night

as leaves hush their lullabies

A swish & whirl , free from the grasp

The triumphant moon emerges

Unscathed and beautiful she smiles

Lighting up the night again

As the witching hour is past,

The crickets sing their mirthful song

The stillness of the lake reverberates

Through out the golden moonlit skies

Pitcure Perfect...

Into the rippled reflection of trees

Painted by autumn, yellow

Dusk falls with a reddish glow

Blessing it, with a purple red halo.

Standing hand in hand

With out a word, In awe

Captivated by the serenity

of nature's picturesque show

A flight of birds across

The now purplish sky

Break the bliss of stillness-

Waking us from our reverie

As we look again and smile

Into that picture now dissolved

But captured in our hearts forever

In a photographic memory

Phoenix Song of Seasons

The Song of four seasons
Played from time imemmorial,
The story of life and birth
Of youth and death and rebirth

Those tender green leaves and grass
sprouting up in an earth so fresh
feasting on the first spring rains
Offspring from the white winter egg

How fast they grow , how fast they grow
into the splendour of summer youth
The aura of strength, the brightness of sun,
the fragrance of flowers, the music of birds.

Alas such beauty can never last
Such is the spell that nature casts
From the egg, the phoenix born,
There comes a time for its fire to burn

Down comes the Fall, the color of fire
Burning down trees in nature's ire
Blazing flames consumes the green
Soon Yellows and red are only seen

The fire dies down, the ashes remain
burnt phoneix feather,Charred and brown,
dead leaves let go from trees so bare
buried in the earth's coffin of snow.

But the phoneix song of seasons,
It will be played again
From the white winter egg
Life will sprout again.

Such is the tale of nature
Such is the circle of life
The phoenix of poetic dreams
Rising from ashes into a whole new life

Into Wilderness

He looked ahead

Wilderness beckoned.
He looked behind,
Memories held back.

Elephants could remember
He always knew that
But the shackles were gone
Difficult to believe that

He had left his masters
He had escaped chains,
But a tiny regrets filled him,
As he thought of their remains.

He looked ahead at Wilderness,
His old childhood home.
He ran as fast as he could.
He was free to roam