Caught Between the Hours

Have you looked up
at the stars lately?

Have you watched the Moon bow
or gulp light from her holy grail?

Have you howled at her?
The sky mother. Oozing

through the gate, a vaporous,
sweet olive black night

in the distance, a coyote yelping

Self-Portrait as a Wolf
(For Donald Hall)

Once I served
my species proudly

by eating the
sickness of prey.

Now, driven from
the Adirondacks

I am the one
endangered. Spotted.

My sharp muzzle
sprinkled with dense,

black yellowish-white
underfur

turned into pelts
for unborn bones

on Christmas eve.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.

Light Rising

Ancient woods nestle softly,
Beneath their down of glistening snow.
Imperceptibly, the Adirondack Dome rises,
The cloaked giant ascends,
Reaching toward the North Star, shining star,
Over millions of years.
Durant’s trains are silenced now,
And the logging camps are dormant.
But the mountains live and the conifers breathe.
Chains of lakes sparkle like glittering molten glass,
Moose River Plains run wild,
Animals forage and the black bear sleeps,
Sheltering, waiting.
Pines dressed in white lacy skirts surround
Wooden Camps glowing warmly from within.
This is the season of peace,
Of hope, of continuity, of life cherished,
Of expectancy,
Of renewal by a blessed light rising,
Making all one,
As it has always done.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.

Homesick

Too far from
pan-fried walleyed pike

and those sultry June nights
when we stoked the coals

as darkness
fell on top

the manic appeal
of loons.

Read More Poems From The Adirondack Almanack HERE.