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Man uses wood without seeing The spark inside the living being The flowing sap and tender core Cleansing air, water and more    Below the soil, symbiotic truth mycorrhizal web joined at root mutualistic defenses to defend Attacks from pests and pathogens Arboreal beings who share the earth Forgive us humans, huddled at hearth Warmed and lighted in the dark Grateful for your endless bark  If we could only see your face And share in your collective space That binds all trees; holds them tight To withstand, withhold and stand upright I gaze in awe below your dome In woods that circle my own home I pray you feel me standing here  With everlasting love… for trees Susan Smoter - Octiber 7, 2023

One night the moon shone down on me, As I sat upon the sand at water's edge. She asked, for the Moon is a lady, "Why do you sit here all alone?" I replied, "I love someone very far away." "Then tell her," the Moon said, gently. I shook my head, as a cloud crossed The sky, and the face, of the caring moon. "I cannot," said I, head bowed. "Duty binds me here too far away." A chill wind crossed the water, And, I shivered, with cold and loss. Warm Moon spoke, "My light will speak for you. i will shine down outside her home each night, With poems and messages of love you send, So, she, seeing me, will think of you." I asked, "How will she ever know, that, Your silver beams are messages of love, Sent by a humble poet?" I asked in doubtr. Moon smiled brightly at my lack of faith. "She will know," sweet Moon replied, "She already knows my beams are love. until now she did not know from whom." One night the Moon, said this to me. • Donovan Baldwin

At first bite it tastes so sweet Tangy tingles on the tongue Hunkering for more delights Tidbits become cravying Bloated on sugar, sickened On torrents of syrupy prose Overwhelming - it’s too much Beloved turn of phrase Is stuck on the bottom of the bowl

I sit among decorations of light and dark, dancing And changing as sunlight peeks around, hides behind Gray clouds, streaming through branches swayed by wind, Varying the patterns on the hard dirt ground. There is life all around, birds singing, wind Blowing, trees swaying, shadows changing, But, not too far away, dark woods standing, Tree shadows blocking out the sun. Among all this light, activity, and life, I find myself reminded of boyhood memories, When I lived my adventures, exploring woods In sunlight, with the wind, surrounded by birdsong. Aware even in that life, of dark woods full of peace, And coolness, and silence. Silent as a tomb, They like to say, and that is how I thought Of the darkening woods somewhere else back then. Now, so many years later, I am again aware, Of the dark shadows underneath the trees, Which stand over my shoulder reminding me, It's almost time to walk into their cool world. • Donovan Baldwin

Soft whispers across the chasm Lightly blowing back my hair Brushing against my face Like a soft kiss Growing more forceful Strong enough to lift my scarf And blow it off my neck Leaving me chilled Rustling my skirt with urgency Calling to me on the wind Step off the trusted trail Onto a path to new love

I have risen from Ashes of my defeat Time and time again, Defying the Fates, And all the evil gods Could muster Against me, For I am me, And I must strive, No matter if I should win or lose, I will rise from The ashes each time For that is MY battle, To rise... Again • Donovan Baldwin

In life are many walls, Hemming us in, containing, Restraining us, Keeping us captive. The worst walls are the ones By those who should be Helping us to find our wings. Next worse walls are those We build around ourselves. Maybe we should try Climbing over those walls. • Donovan Baldwin

Like a boy playing tag upon Two flowered hills with blooms Budding at dawn's warm kiss, Wandering bare and bold at will Among soft quivering reeds Moved by a passing breath And the brush of my fingers Listening to sweet sounds She makes first as whispers Sighing and singing as, Leading me to safety, I trespass upon her Forbidden lands. • Donovan Baldwin

We hear a lot about allowing people to be themselves, not hating them for what they are, or trying to change them (unless, of course, they're an ax murderer... but most aren't). Sounds fair. We've all been raised so differently, many coming from okay cultures who simply have different, perhaps difficult for us to understand, ways of living and looking at life. With a few exceptions here and there (note ax murderer above), most of us manage to make this work. One of the exceptions is what bothers me. How come you (and I) can do all that for the good of everybody else (to the best of our abilities), and NOT do it for ourselves? Shouldn't we forgive ourselves our sins... if sins they truly are? After all, many "sins" are not really sins at all, just someone's idea of "improper behavior"... whatever THAT is. Shouldn't we accept ourselves the way we are? Oh, we all could be "better" somehow... healthier, wiser, more forgiving, more understanding, etc. There's an old saying (in different forms), "You can't dip water from an empty well." Fill yourself up first with kindness, understanding, forgiveness, even acceptance. After all, there's a lot of people out there who haven't gotten the message yet, and you've got a lot of (rewarding) work to do. • Donovan Baldwin

Back story: In 1967, two army buddies and I went to Disneyland, in Anaheim, California. While walking past one of the buildings, I saw a girl, who smiled at me as I passed. I got a photo of that face. Looked at it from time to time over the years, and wondered who she was and whatever happened to her. This poem is that memory and the subsequent wondering. One Girl's Face Fifty years ago I passed, and, Tried to read in one girl's face, Two stories; hers and mine. Mine was fantasy with her as the heroine. Was I in hers? I doubt she ever saw me. I have no knowledge of her story, But, I could sense shadows of dreams Behind her eyes, which stared out Towards a place, where surely, Something wonderful was happening. Did she long to go there, In that fantastic world? Did someone ride to save her, From the boredom of daily drudgery? In her story, was her simple dress Transformed Into a gown most beautiful? Was her soft dark hair topped, With a bejeweled tiara? There are, as I was told, a million Faces I might see, and each a story, I will never be allowed to read. So, what I read in one girl's face, Was, and must remain a romantic mystery. Perhaps some day, that girl herself, Now as old as I, may tell in her own words, The story that her eyes beheld that day That only they could see, and she could read, The story told beyond, or perhaps behind, That one girl's face, fifty years ago. • Donovan Baldwin

to love one more time look at you and see love there if only a dream ----- out of the darkness sliding gliding hands of pride releasing rainbows ----- we never break rules we make our own rules of love edges expanding ----- what my love looks like take a look in the mirror she looks just like you ----- no certain body color of skin hair or eye it's her heart that counts ---- i'm in pain you know an ache i deal with daily of mind and body ----- it's not me i'm sure poet who captured your heart i write of his love ----- can't allow myself to fully expose the facts how i feel for you • Donovan Baldwin