on foggy days
each rock makes promises
broken by waves
David Trudel (c) 2014
Tag Archives: rocks
Filed under Haiku
looking for the aurora
toes curl
gripping rock through shoe and moss
pressing brief bones against a plunge of denseness
my tongue tastes endurance
more feeling than looking
then up, inevitably
up into the great whatever
not into riddles or faded histories of starlight
catching yesterday’s plasma
high flies
against the big black fullness
high flies
rippling daggers slice the empty
this point a singularity
under it all
holding on to nothing
holding nothing in
until the next point is less than something
nothing is left
but the rock
the sky
and me
David Trudel © 2014
Filed under Poetry
Winter Solstice
In this place the rocks can talk 
Eroded and fuzzed with lichen and moss
They live in slow motion
Groaning their conversations across the ages
They don’t waste time on pleasantries
When you find the right pool of water
On a day like the solstice
A little reflecting can go a long way
If the light of the sun hits the oblique just so
If your mind relaxes and stops its chattering
A little reflection is good for the soul
Looking deep into the shallow pool
This teardrop lets you find a way into the rock
If you can manage to not quite look
Perhaps a vision might be seen
And if you listen very slow
Slower still
You’ll hear the murmur deep below
And if you can step between the cracks 
You might just start to change
Become a different kind of bird
In a shadowland absurd
David Trudel © 2012 Images by the author
Filed under Poetry
