Tag Archives: beauty

Doe

her eyes catch the final glimmers of daylight

drawing my attention to the doe

ruminating trailside

I hold her gaze and say hello dear

with a smile

we look at each other, her shoulders relax

we share this moment

not quite trusting each other

but less than wary

close enough to hear each other breathing

shadows close in

our eyes, different enough

seeing mysteries

both recognize a moment of peace

worth sharing

 

David Trudel   © 2014

 

 

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5 Haikus

 

leaves growing green

deeper than lost shadows

birdsong soundtrack

 

 

bleached driftwood sleeping

blanketed by swaying grass

a chorus of frogs

 

 

the pull of the beach

an ocean mesmerized

toes curl in the sand

 

 

blossoms punctuate

this animated landscape

spring revelation

 

 

intertidal echoes

resonate against the sand

gulls soar overhead

 

 

David Trudel   © 2014

 

 

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waiting for moonrise
a heron creeps the tideline
pulling a promise

David Trudel © 2014

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someone else’s rainbow

raining now, hunching into the wind

sea air spilling fresh

winds pulling ruined towers around horizons

white against grey, grey against blue, blue against indigo

shored meadows dressed in purple and yellow

on mottled rocks

an otter surfaces nearby

prize clutched defiantly sliding around a corner

clouds part enough to flash some sky

we are standing at the end of someone else’s rainbow

hunching into the wind

watching cumulus reservoirs slow rolling overhead

underfoot a treasury of the overlooked

while someone wishes

hunching into the wind

 

 

David Trudel   © 2014

 

 

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rain beats a blue song

from clouds rubbing shoulders

your smile, a sunbeam

 

 

David Trudel   © 2014

 

 

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stellar

there was a moment when

I had to admit

I’d fallen into your orbit

it was too late

to save me

gravity pulled

I was

captured

 

 

David Trudel   © 2014

 

 

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I am Grateful

I am grateful for the privilege that lets me live on Vancouver Island

I am grateful to be a visitor on the traditional lands of the Lek’wungen People

I am grateful for the freedom to walk on the beach at dusk in safety

I am grateful for being a white male

in a world of violence towards women

I thank the creator for all the gifts I share

I thank the creator for all of you

I’m grateful

for the privilege of sharing

this moment

this now

with you

 

David Trudel © 2014

 

 

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drip

it was like drip

drip

 

drip

 

pulling tree essence

good intentions

into

down there

 

it was like respirations

of the Pacific

travelled in and out

 

drip

 

concentrated into

purity

water of forever

healed into clear drops

 

washed absolution

reconnected to a fresh return

of my own fluidity

eroding rock walls

 

drip

drip

drip

 

not a virtue

but necessary

as rain washes upper stories

into lower

drop by drop

changed by intentions

like I want to reach the sky

 

I express gratitude

causing molecular reconfiguration

I send a wave of prayers

into forever

 

I feel the forest upswell

meet water, wondered into magic

from formless transform

to magnificent

in time for just now

thinking

a wave has me tumbled

or a wave has tumbled

through this forest

to drown me

 

 

David Trudel  © 2014

 

 

 

 

 

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rain

rain in the night

louder than heartbeats

pain

hard as raindrops slam slapping

waiting for nerves to sing

in the night

while the rain falls

in the dark

heart thumping

heart beating in time with the rain

in time with pain

in the night

when the heart is a round drum

leading a dance in the dark

truth in each beat

vibrating in rhythm with the rain in the night

louder than heartbeats marking pain

in the night

while rain falls louder than hearts can hear

tonight

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2014

 

 

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Shin

Of all the things I’m privileged with, one of my favourites is being able to go on nighttime Shinrin-yoku  walks in the hilltop park behind my house.  Armed only with a flashlight I walk the darkened hallways of swaying trees, listening to arpeggios played upon their upper branches.

I walk by myself but I’m not alone, I’m here with each fir and oak, with the forest understory with its many tiny insect and bird kingdoms, and I’m with the morphing clouds that race across the sky, ambered by the city that spills its way towards this hilltop redoubt. I listen to the song the wind is singing and I look at the scimitar pureness of a new moon.   I give thanks for a moment of standing on a rocky outcrop at the edge of a city watching its lights and the sky overhead, feeling the wind surge around me and feeling at peace.

 

 

 

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