Celestial Bed

Celestial bed
Constellations
Fiery blaze
Passionate gaze

Celestial bed
Star gazes
Trail blazes
Moons phase

Lovers lay
Layer’s of lace
Lover’s language
Moist eyes trace

Celestial bed
Closest embrace
Mistakes erase
Courage face

Peel back the moon
Sacred taste
Human race
We take our place

Night Sky and Milky Way in Hocking Hills by Jim Crotty

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Wooded Wondering

As I wander here among the sacred land and forest,I wonder
If the life I have known will live on when I am no longer here.
Will the pine forest still speak in the wind, and will the lakes remain
Effervescing in the colors of fall and in the moon light at night?
Will the still-small-cottages and their lights aglow still beckon
Hospitality to those passersby’s blessed to be about in the night? 
If heaven is that place and time where one was most happy during one’s life,
Then I shall never leave thee… forest, lake, and woodland path,
Nor watchful eyes of deer, so that when you come this way I will speak to you
In the winds atop the pines, and rustle beneath your feet in fall’s splendor, or
Startle you awake in springs thunder and watch you in winter be the first to take
 A new-fallen-snow-step into wonder, knowing now that
You and I and the forest are now and always will be…
Heavenly

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Come. Linger!

Swaying corn of harvest’s field
Is not impatient with the seed~
Spring fed lakes do not dry up
Because shore lines seem to change~
Here is the secret of life
For your hurried days of strife~
Come, sway with the corn
In autumn’s moonlit nights~
Come lay and linger with
Plantings newly covered seed~
Drink and rest, refreshed by spring;
Linger with life indeed!

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To Speak of Death

You ask me to speak to youOf nature, and decay,and life and death, and
My tongue becomes the pen
Of a ready writer,
Says the psalmist 
May the words I speak and
The pen that writes on behalf of The One—
Be therefore like springtime, where
 I do not fear its arrival… norIts sweet and pungent air… announcing its
Eminent presence 
For death is undervalued in the
Larger scheme of life—
And life itself becomes
Something we spend our lives giving up
What has never been ours to possess! 
There are secrets told here
By the wise ones when—
In rooms of dark night, they
Speak of freedoms visitation
In their dying 
And death itself visits in its
Season of unreasonableness—
Walking the halls of your home…
Nothing came stop its arrival,Nor is there need for such as
Everything comes down to this Breath
And this breath itself—is enough, and in that
Moment of birth, all dross
Falls away and …Nothing holds us
As in God’s heart we pray

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The Gift by Stephen W Emerick

 The Gift
Stephen W Emerick 
All is gift…
My friend in his illness
My daughter’s wedding
By the dying father’s bedside
The day she cries
His school days
Her love ways
Dirty smell of laundry
Cathedral Bell
Ocean swell
Growing older
Becoming Elder
Walking in the woods
Hemlock bower
Springtime shower
Dying flower
All is gift……
And I remain ….
Grateful I Found Thee

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Suddenly. Faith! By Stephen W Emerick

I then was
Far too long in darkness,
Blind with never ending digging–
Seeking Water in dark soil,
Hope…my ships only rigging.

I then saw
Digging towards me in earnest faith
Through faithlessness unfathomable,
And black-capped visions of despair…
The Sacred unimaginable!

I then felt
All that had kept me bound
Break away, and in peace alone,
I sailed through the open Portal,
To the Sea I now call home.

Ice on Tunnel in Hocking Hills by Photographer Jim Crotty

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Prodigal by Stephen W Emerick

To be fall’s last leaf leaving,
No longer to tree am tied;
Will countenance then be covered…
Because it has fallen and died?

Will fellow’s of forest gather round…
With grief and sadness bereft?
Is all hope and longing lost,
Beneath winter’s covering cleft?

Or if on the family tree…
There is none left but me;
And I lie prostrate upon the ground…
Will I too with leaf’s laurel be crowned?

Perhaps then like the prodigal one,
After a long and laborious leave…
I will find I have not left, but arrived…
By the arms of home received.

Lone Maple Leaf handcolored photograph by photographer Jim Crotty

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Peru: The God of the Mountain’s Sworn Covenant by Stephen W Emerick

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Poems are Hewn from Gypsy Wood by Stephen W Emerick


Poems are hewn from gypsy wood,
Thrown on the fire at night;
Placed simmering in the ember pot,
Brought out again at
New days first shining light.

Only now and then appearing in time,
The breath of the bard blows round them,
Exposing their emerald glow.
When read with the passion of the poet
Strikes home like the archer’s sharp bow.

Fire and sparks photograph by Jim Crotty

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Poetry and Photography: A seamless passion

The collaborative work between myself and Jim Crotty, photographer, represents the seamless passion of poetry and photography. The poet is wordsmith of the experience. The photographer manifests life when the observer and observed meet. Here at www.naturepoet.com you will find works of poetry and photography, and the luminous philosophy of its seamless passion.

I am astonished at the extent and the intimacy of our relationship with the natural world, and www.naturepoet.com invites you to share in the experience. Please share your experience with us in return! Sincerely, Stephen W Emerick

Cedar Falls and Oak Leaf in Stream by Jim Crotty

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