Snow on the Mountain

Ray Foss

POETRY• I believe poetry is all around us, not

something you have to seek out in some distant place.

• The beauty of nature, our beliefs that sustains us, the smile of our daughters, and the love that we share, these are all subjects of my poetry.

• People say that a picture speaks a thousand words. With poetry, I can paint a picture, capture a moment, a smell, a scene in a handful of words. I hope these words paint pictures for you.

Needing to focus

Seeing the beauty

Seeing the Words – v9for me, not education, learningsomeone unspoken, unwrittengathered from the air, a giftwriting is so much aboutseeing the words, the constellations,points of light against the night sky,the mind’s eye of unconsciousnessdreams retained, written, pulled from the canvas, the canopyknitting the words into the tapestry,the fabric they were meant to begossamer wings and steely gravitas

blended or plucked from the ethergathered upon a permanent pagesuch is the process of inspirationfinding the words, writtenalready stitched togetherwritten in heaven, upon stoneswoven tight with strong bondsphrases and thoughts tied togethercoming as if from nothing, but rightalready formed, ready to be discoveredseen and scribed, printed upon the page

Beach SandMaybe it is the memoriesthe change of pace that brings us therethe sense of vacationmaybe the smell of the placethe sights of the gulls, the dunes, the grassesbut oh it is the feel of it, the crunch and slide of itthe feeling of beach sandso different from dirt, soil, loamno, not earthy, moist, rich,

but oh so granular and grittyeven when wet,moveable paper spreading under toessliding beneath the solessmoothing my skinclearing my mindunburdening me of the restdrawing me to the tactile, the feelof beach sand

The Ledges – v4Our eight silent canoesSixteen of us entrancedPushed off onto the still watersAfter 2am on a July night.Full moon and stars, so many,To guide us across the lakeAnd on down river.Loon and bullfrogTheir calls, their criesThe only sound present

Save for the slice,The bite of the paddle,A drizzle of water off the blades,And hulls breaking the surface.No one spoke,None of we sixteen.Lost in our own thoughtsNot wanting to breakThe magic, the spellThe night and the waterHeld on all of us.

something ancient, sacred – v2something ancient, sacredspeaking to my spiritconnected to this placesomething familiaras I walk among the treesI have been here beforeamong the ferns, the pinessomething ancient, sacredsomething familiartouching my heart and mind

formed within the stone – v6within their flesh, their bodiestheir true self within themhidden but presentformed within the stonebefore their beginning who they will bethe truth of their beingalready present, waitingformed within the stonebefore their beginning