Walking old paths

each morning, not writing

I re-find an old way of seeing,


not thinking.

The ferns, like green plumes;

still-life living.

Reddish-brown at the ends,

some of them;

slow-pouring their colour into the

soft moist ground.

A low cedar bough above;

each tiny evergreen leaf

like a miniature fern;

nature repeating itself.


I miss his solidity

His slow-changing nature;

where is he now…

I put my ear

to the bark of tree;

but I can’t hear his heartbeat.

“Come back, or just tell me, kindly”

but he is silent

wherever he is





9 thoughts on “Rendering

  1. You and I have taken this same walk little sister. My ear pressed to the bark of his tree, listening to his silence.
    Beautifully expressed. Sending you many hugs and lots of love β€οΈβ€οΈπŸ€—πŸ€—

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for the love, lovely lady. Every path is different, every tree is different… even if they appear to be similar at first glance. :)) Thanks for sharing your kind heart. Keep up the amazing art πŸ™πŸ’—πŸ€—

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Benjamin! Feeling blessed to see you here, friend. Thanks so much for the detailed and thoughtful encouragement. πŸ˜šπŸ™βœ¨πŸŒΏ


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