The morning won’t deceive you with its freshened air and sound of birds. You needn’t rely on memory; the timeless touch is on every plant.

South wind breaks in waves against the ebbing tide, sunlight falls in shafts on the rain-soaked shore. As I follow the sea’s motion anchors of

Lifted on summer waves, the pulse of life carries us beyond decay. New seeds crack open, revealing pale forms with boneless limbs, aching for daylight.

I whirl through space, a sea of aether and stardust, yet can’t lift my eyes from the dirt trodden path. I stumble around ignorant and

More stone than sea I’d be like water, touched by wind, loved by the moon. I’d dwell in deep canyons, travel the furthest reach, and

“It is the nature of stone to be satisfied. It is the nature of water to want to be somewhere else.” – Mary Oliver  

Look for me when leaves burst out and voices of spring ring full in the valley. Follow the snow melt along the Clackamas and Long

Spring flowers rattle the caves, provoking the apostles to take up their pallets of sorrow and leave dark comfort. Trees hide in the rain, fearing

The gravity of your smile, lighthearted yet muscled with the blessings of sorrow, keeps my satellite in orbit, my rage against the machine tempered and

I won’t outlive the sea, not one drop of its salt depth, not the old growth trees nor the stone beneath my feet. I am

The stars we follow have written our names, the ones we’re given on journeys with the sun. The one your mother knew when she regarded

Tune your instrument to the key of praise while morning light shines on the sea. Trees lift their branches in the rising breeze and the