seasonal poetry from “the dreamweavers tree”.

Mike Koontz
Jan 23 · 3 min read

We caress these

days

of

leaves that burn

from within

of green and scarlet hue

like fields

of gleaming

brilliance

quiet

slow

without harshness crudity

these trees

they speak

so livingly

with shrooms

above

below

their

old friends

that stretch

from down the ground

towards the sun

together

with

the sea of beech and birches

they are

by now

the living old

the things that rattle

shed and dress

this world

in autumns fold

and winters sleep

Growing young

beyond the ages

they

morph & fall

together

with

our auburn song

for here we

live

within

the changing stages

served with strokes of warmth

the

slowing touch

of

cold

and pearling water

sprinkled

life

on top

the

harking voice

of skyclad beings

The guarding

Cor

vi

dae

Deciduous

they labeled

this old world

like ravens wise

dressed

with

trees of white

and ash that burns

colored leaves that alter,

our path and lives

across the forest

where

we find, the old forgotten

the silent

one

hiding

in a glade of birch and water,

bewitched and caught

inside this gaze

of natures muse

the dryad goddess

the searching light

of summers

late

night wind

the kiss embrace that softly slow

drag

its heels

and solemn whispers

all while

natures torrent

speaks

of

amour

and som

nam

bulistic

moments

dug up,

from

a pond of living

memories

still living breathing liaison

ever

growing more

endless shared

with each layer

twixt

born

from

The sun and sinners

folding whispers call,

from

inside

the ending of

today

across the fields

of wheat

two billion frozen flowers

we call this day

the fading harvest

while for a lonesome owl

at midnight

the moment calls

back out

to us

and so it writes

and speaks to me

with the hymn

of life

and

autumns touch

back to this place

where we stand

with birds of twelve

and flocks

of

tiny mice

The midnight ravens, wolves, and lynx

from beyond our tales

and books

of old

myths are woven

upon a bank

of sand

and dunes

like playful dates

that stretch and changes

with each turning

of layered clothes

that fall

skin revealed

like pages

which now opens

out of

order

While here

we wait

and wait

we also

walk and grow

for dark midwinter,

hand in hand

We stand

a cuddled group

together with

the dancing

of the

northern

light

the basking hues

of this old moment

Which guide and

leads

us,

like a siren out on fleeting sheets of ice

the calls that beckon

like a scent of coffee

which eager swirl

beyond the garden

of our towers high

the home

of well-worn castles

and dark grey mountains

through the brown and grounded world

of leaves and critters,

we make our way

like

some

peculiar

sort

of

happenstance

we guide and lead each other

through

this

worlds pasture,

and soon it

holds and features

landscapes colored

two parts summer

wild and painted vivid

dressed in spring

with auburn hue and greens that melt

with yellow, brown and burning fire

the whole dark world

now sing

together

of

waiting winter and sleeping days

that layer,

unseen silent

beneath the snow

from castle walls, bricks, and dams,

our words are born

of

worlds and times

like ghostlike knights

both here and there

that stride

the changing line

of summers

long-held

battle

lines

And now

we climb

and hike

venture past

the point of drums that marches

we now go,

merged

together

proud and stout

towards the turn of winters

tide

the icy

white that grow and fall

from

down the

moonlit ridge

and

all the trolls that guard this valley

but once we see

the packed up ice and snow that howling waits, like a pack of wolves

atop

the crest

to caress and wayward tumble

the whole wide world

We climb our way

Again

back

down

the mountain

to the

hue of colors, for five more minutes

of autumns grace

and summers late-night whisper

before

we jump

with smiles and hearts

bursting wide

into the snow


Happy bday

October 10 & December 11

Fine art print available over at printler by Mike Koontz

music of the day

the wolves between the stars by Astrophobos

https://open.spotify.com/track/6C476dfDLpUhFfUhC5cO3y?si=LLVRth92QTCJTtRjbCkIOw

beyond2c

From the northern halls of the Vikings home comes this tribe of creative heralds. Writers, poets, photographers, creatives, great thinkers, fitness geeks, and experts. There are no stones and thoughts, and creative adventures left unturned in the pages of Beyond2c.

Mike Koontz

Written by

Author & Photography. PT, health & fitness. Science and sustainability advocate | aNorseView.com , Scandinavian.fitness.

beyond2c

beyond2c

From the northern halls of the Vikings home comes this tribe of creative heralds. Writers, poets, photographers, creatives, great thinkers, fitness geeks, and experts. There are no stones and thoughts, and creative adventures left unturned in the pages of Beyond2c.

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