Painting: DEER IN THE FOREST by Franz Marc (1913). Thank you, Silver Birch Press! Instituto Terra by Barbara Leonhard “Nature is the earth and it is other beings and if we don’t have some kind of spiritual return to our planet, I …Instituto Terra by Barbara Leonhard (HOW TO HEAL THE EARTH Series)
Lost on Maroon Bells Trail by Barbara Leonhard (LANDMARKS Series)
Thank you, Silver Birch Press, for publishing my poem for your LANDMARKS series! I’m grateful I returned from this trip! Getting lost on the mountains is no fun.
The day before, we had hiked for 8 hours to Maroon Bells Lake and camped over night. The next day, we were heading out for another long hike back to the trail head. I think we were an hour away from our car when I took the wrong turn.
Lost on Maroon Bells Trail
by Barbara Leonhard
The Maroon Bells chime,
So long, dear. May you dance
& sway with the breeze
In our floral meadows.
Do you know the edibles?
The wind ruffles my hair as I hike out.
An old man limps from around a bend.
I take his course, turning right,
Not left. The path narrows,
But well-marked steps
Pin me to a destination
Down a steep hill on my behind.
The old guy did this?
I call for my husband, who had run ahead.
A clearing opens, & prior travelers
show no sense of direction.
Their prints scatter like whitetail deer
Fleeing the hungry cougar.
I call for my husband over & over
& look for his shoe size.
He runs back to check on his mate,
But the two stragglers far behind her
had surpassed her stride.
She can outpace…
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Three Flakes on the Front Door by Barbara Leonhard (MY FRONT DOOR Series)
I’m so delighted that Silver Birch Press published my poem “Three Flakes on the Front Door“. Last winter, these three cut outs of snow flakes appeared on our front door. I took a picture. We never found out who gifted the designs. However, it inspired a poem!
Three Flakes on the Front Door
by Barbara Leonhard
Front doors, gateways to stories
held in the arms of lovers.
Brides and babies travel
over thresholds that welcome
spring’s warm breeze, summer’s first bees,
autumn’s tumbling leaves, winter’s freeze
for child play in drifts of snow
cushioning the stalwart door,
where Mystery gifts
three flakes, cut-out lives
of transient travel
through passageways to greet
weddings, rituals, blessings,
date nights, lives guarded
and double-bolt locks
until the last flake
Clothed in frayed lives,
the dead flutter as birds
from their cages
out the front gate
into new gardens.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I find the concepts of doors, portals, and passageways inspiring. One winter day, someone pasted cutouts of three snowflakes on our modest front door. In this poem, I see the three snowflakes as metaphorical for the transience of seasons and the stages of…
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