"...imbued with emotional power." - KCUR/NPR (Kansas City)

High in the Mountains

I enter the wordless forest
Glimpse the yellow-gold ground cover
The fallen grey trees
The velvet green moss
The towering Blue Spruce
And groan
Earthy, primitive, husky, gravely
A wounded animal crying out to the forest
Fierce, angry screams that turn to tears

I bellow across the echoing canyon, the tops of trees
I moan loudly to the sky, the pale half-moon
The flowered meadow, the distant jagged mountains

I sniff the vanilla-maple Spruce
Caress the flaking bark, the soft new growth
I am part of them, of all of this
And they are part of me
Every pebble, every rock
Every acorn, every pine cone
Every fallen leaf and broken willow
Needled Spruce and Fir and Pine
We are brothers

I lie in this earth
Kiss it, caress it
Feel her wound as she takes my tears
As she takes me


I awake in the forest
Weak, moaning, bent
Move haltingly through the trees
Moans become prayer
Please help me find my way back to the music
Prayer becomes tears
Tears become sound
Healing sounds
Wordless sounds from the beginning of time
The song of birth, of Creation
Of being and becoming

I sing to the timeless mountain
I praise You from my belly, my heart, my lungs
Through the tops of these trees
To the pale half moon in the bright blue azure heavens
With sparrows and jays
Thrushes and larks
Chittering squirrels and chirping chipmunks

A choir of angels
A song of praise

The song of the forest
The sound of the Earth

The voice of Nature
The sound of eternity