Earth Images

Upstream from where I lived
The river had width and depth
For traffic of barges
And ships that plied the oceans.
Wider near my home,
Enough to be called a bay,
Before downstream worn mountains
Force it to a narrow twisting course.
The land grows lower,
The river wider,
Touched by ocean tides
Till at its mouth it is
A harbor open to the world.

Paul G Weaver
2017

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In the deep
Shadow places
Where mountains
Meet
With rock upon rock,
Sit, long and silent,
Listening
With your spirit
For there is a telling
Of tales
That never had words
To bind them.
Tales
From the mountains’
Dark soul
Of beginnings and endings
Joined together,
Of seeking without finding
And finding without seeking.

Paul G. Weaver
2017

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The wind’s song
Is fierce this morning,
Like a cry of some being
Ancient and wild
That roamed the land
When life was new.
Such beings
Have disappeared,
Yet their spirits
Still live
In the myths
Of the old ones
And the howl
Of the wind.

Paul G Weaver
March 2017

Morning weeps
With chill gray mist,
Collecting on leaf
And limb,
Building to drops
Like pearls of sky,
To finally fall,
Disappearing
Into the earth.

Paul G Weaver
2017

Across this mighty
Sea of hay
A summer wind
Sweeps waves of green.

The season’s turning
Spreads a golden carpet
Across the contours
Of the land.

With harvest done,
The fields seem bare,
Yet in the barns
Summer’s treasure
Awaits the needs
Of winter.

Paul G Weaver
2017

The forest’s shadows
Linger through the day,
With highlight patches
Where sunlight pierces
The great green crowns.
Here a stillness lives
That includes the sounds
Of bird and breeze.
Linger here where age is long,
Counted not by days
But the passing of cycles
And the steady change of seasons.
Look carefully. Listen well.
Let the forest touch your soul
And fill you with its peace.

Paul G Weaver
2017

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The sky is filled
With the sun's bright presence,
Yet in these old woods
Where trees grow crowded
The air is filled with shadows Where shafts of sunlight
Are scattered treasures.

Paul G Weaver
2019

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A windswept beach
Where snow is drifting,
Settling white
Between the dunes
And sometimes
Hiding the grasses.
Winter’s wind
Sculpts both sand and snow
To beauty cold and silent.

Paul G Weaver
2019

Look out
To the horizon
Where ocean
Becomes sky.
Look carefully
To where waves
Are born,
Rising up
To feel the wind,
Then foaming,
Withdraw.
Study one
All the way in,
If you can,
From its birth
To its crashing
End
In clouds
Of spray.

Paul G Weaver
2017

The sea exhales,
Sending waves
Up the beach’s sand,
Then, inhaling
Water and sand,
Draws back
Into the ocean.

Paul Weaver
2016

Fog
Slips silently
Between the trees
Leaving a trail
Of moisture
On their trunks.
It thickens and thins,
Drifting
On the night wind,
Turning these woods
Into a gathering
Of ghosts
Which disappear at dawn.

Paul G Weaver
2017