Tag Archives: nature


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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Filed under Passing Thoughts

Haiku – January 2

perching, a cormorant

is a question on the water

marking time and place



David Trudel   © 2014



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Sculptural Pieces

Weathered rocks scoured by ice and time

Derelict trees tumbled into dreams

Ripplesanded shorelines studded by rockshreds

Swayedback barns leaning into fallow fields

Rusted ratrods posing in jumbled yards

Skylines that pull you into horizons

Jig jaggedly climbing into impossibilities

Fences marking space and time

Held up or supporting a spray of twigged greenness

Invitations of benches

Offering views into eternity

Alterations made by serendipity or intention abound

Three dimensionally textured magic

Filling my thirst for the spectacular

Wherever I find the unexpected and sublime

I smile with intention

Breathe in and send an exhalation of applause

In the general direction of found art

Or art that’s found me



David Trudel    ©   2013



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Filed under Poetry

Blued gray wavelets dance2013-03-17 15.24.26

Wind sprites dervish randomly

Trees bend branches close



David Trudel   © 2013


Image taken by the author, Beaver Lake, using an iPhone 3G



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Filed under Haiku

Goldstream 3

Arched guardians

Beckon acceptance








I follow the trail

Over root crowded corners

Leafy aisles

Autumnal shades

Golden experience




Branches beckoning

To skies






A letter

Scripted organically


David Trudel  ©  2012


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Filed under Poetry