Quaking Aspens: Verse 9

Owls, in vast assemblages on gnarled limbs, of oaks, of elms, sit still on branches, shackled by the dark, chained to longest night beginnings; hoot, protesting the Moon and in its shine ghostly sounds rebound.

Quaking Aspens: Verse 8

Strand of twisted oak, solemn survivor of the slicing stroke from lightning strike; defiant, stands alone amid fog and dark in silent celebration of still being here, of still being able, even now, to put forth life.

Quaking Aspens: Verse 7

Pale-transparent against snow covered hills, white shrouded somber ghosts, misty-vapor presences; in stripped thinned leaves, trees in heavy bark stand silent, nostalgic for the summer long since departed.

Quaking Aspens: Verse 6

Ease of money led us astray; corrupted us. Commerce made us avaricious, soft easy prey. Conscience's prick causes a consideration of direction, of a hardened change; to make mark with a black thorn stick. 

Quaking Aspens: Verse 5

Never not for nothing, I am for you; though a phalanx of bayonets is deep arrayed in skirmish against me, I am for you. I will never forsake or desert or forget you. Though I die, faithful still shall I remain. 

Quaking Aspens: Verse 4

Inspiration has no pity no apology, bones of belief are fleshed by adversity, made resilient by battle; the craters and the scars, seared in bombardment of the senses, meld, to join sentiment to the soul.

Quaking Aspens: Verse 3

Rime upon their budding branches, a frost is coming on the cherry trees, closing and cocooning exposed black extended tips; the fire of their blossoms both white and pink, will have to wait yet another Spring.

Quaking Aspens: Verse 2

Born absent a causation, with no connection needed to consequence, without a care for responsibility to anyone or to anything, we enjoy who we are: Who we are is just fine, is good, just because we are.

Quaking Aspens: Verse 1

Cold snap, twig break, winter is coming on and the lights are being turned on earlier every day. Startled by sudden changing winds, sharp anger in the aspen trees shake leaves in an awkward leaning tremble.

State of Silence: Verse 33

Go for the gun. The rule of law is what you're carrying on your hip. Come quiet in the dark, with silencer ready. Shoot the fair enemy that was your Art. Begin new life over corpse of old, and then; create again.

State of Silence: Verse 32

In holding on to lantern light, when night has come, when the darkness looms so close, who shall dare to share and bathe in brightness then when each person's passion's flame is dimmed; trimmed by age?

State of Silence: Verse 31

Saffron soft in mellow yellow hues, tinted by a late September afternoon, lazy clouds smother the early blues of morning in deeper tones of a slow motion gray that gives to distance the close horizon of hope.