Featured Poem

The Forest Trail

​The old rail bed underfoot
has softened only slightly
from the recent rain that 
has dampened my spirit. 

Late in the afternoon
the slanting light of 
the fall day is fading 
and the gray horizon 

unrolls from the east. 
The crisp air signals 
the coming change 
from harvest to sleep. 

Distantly the drone 
of a tractor threads 
the silence; it passes 
and is gone. 

The trees beside the path 
glow red and gold.
It is this quiet I love. 
In the moment a sudden 

breeze showers me 
in a heaven of falling colors, 
like a baptism of cleansing rain. 
I can begin again.

Published in ArtAscent, October 2018