hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky

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hidden somewhere behind the gray of the sky

is the sun

it’s golden hue no longer emitted

a dreary bleakness replaces it


most trees have lost their leaves

and with no sun to strike the yellows and reds of those that are left

their beauty may seem to have disappeared

overtaken by a thin layer of gray

reminiscent of the sun


the clouds continue to darken

shifting slightly closer with each second


but does this truly make nature any less beautiful?


the sky

with no sun to capture all the attention

seems endless

beauty lingers in the darkening shades of the leaves

and the layers of darkening clouds

are a mass of colors not seen every day

the day is peaceful

less hectic


as the sun sets in the distance

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This picture of the Columbia River was my inspiration for this poem.










as the sun sets in the distance

the clouds above it lose their form

the purples and pinks absorbed from the sun

spread and seep into the pale blue sky


a river

calm and vast

stands between me and the hills

of which the sun is setting

creating a blurry

mirror like

reflection of the scene above


all is dark

save for the colors of the sun

I hold onto this moment

wishing it could stay forever

knowing that at any moment it could be gone


at last the sun is no longer visible

it has taken with it those colors

that had so held my attention


a moment

so precious and small

has been replaced by the night



there is a wooden bench

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there is a wooden bench

the wood is worn, near splintering

and the once walnut finish has faded to gray


the sun

which is surrounded by clouds

but not blocked

casts a soft warmth on the bench

inviting me over


I sit

looking up at the beautiful maple standing behind the bench

its leave have begun to change

only a handful of green is noticeable amongst the reds and yellows


it is not until this moment

that I notice the many leaf less trees that surround me

they are bare


they lack the warmth of the maple


a quick gust swirls past

there is a ruckus in the branches above me

crisp leaves rattle together


lone red leaf


.   w

.  i

.    r

. l


(in the still air)

(cascading towards)


seconds pass by

until it takes its last twirl

and lands next to me on the bench

its vibrant red color

standing out against the gray of the bench

signaling what is to come

I stare at the river

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I stare at the river

its lucid waters flowing gently downstream

the rocks that edge its current are round, beveled even

but unlike so many rivers

these rocks are not slippery

for this river

unlike those that flow through cities

is clean


it is small in comparison

more of a mountain stream

weaving its way through tree covered hills


a fish swims by quickly

the dazzling sun finding its scales

creating a fast moving rainbow

in the shallow depths of the water


up ahead

where the river curves

a spot covered fawn

walks quietly through the brush

its beige fur radiating against the greens of the forest

its long legs carry it awkwardly to the water’s edge

and it dips its inferior head to drink from the precious water

completely unaware

that I’m watching


the river plays a pivotal role

knowing how to provide to those that rely on it

both creatures and plants



entangled in its seemingly omniscient character

I cannot help but be perplexed at its perfection

I know the feeling all too well

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I know the feeling all too well

of pain in the pit of one’s stomach

that travels all the way up to the heart

as it throbs

its beat more real

louder than ever


it’s like something is trying to get out

like a person’s soul is somewhere

in that mass of living organs

very much alive

as they are

pushing at the walls of the stomach

and with the beat of the heart

intensifying those feelings


it happens every so often

set off normally by one thing in particular

and it stays until it is distracted

the person’s soul forgets what it wants

until whatever it is comes back

and the process begins


the leaves fell from the trees like rain

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the leaves fell from the trees like rain

showering me in reds and yellows


like many fall mornings

a dreary and gray backdrop floated above me


the sun

whose warmth was long gone

tried desperately to reach me

but the little glow emanating from it

stayed distant


I looked for its warmth

in what held the same colors

could the leaves replace the sun?


the reds and yellows swirled around me

brightening the gloom

letting me know

that I don’t need the sun

to feel

as the sun sets

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as the          sets just below the trees


and just above the mountains,

an eagle’s screech rings out


setting the stage for nature


a place where anything can happen

where the moon is as bright

as the sun


and something as small as a

rock dropping on a worn down trail

can be heard for                                               miles

and                                                                                                      miles