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Reflecting on today, plotting tomorrow.
Love the ride
Set Your Heading


A View of Whiteface Mountain from Middle Saranac Lake

Author’s Note: I don’t consider myself a poet. I don’t seek them out. Sometimes, however, they still seem to find me. This one came in pieces, like fall’s falling leaves, on my last fall duck hunting trip of the season, up north to Middle Saranac Lake via South Creek.

I pulled it together from scrambled notes jotted on scraps of paper I scrounged, while sitting on Middle Saranac Lake in my zenboat canoe, soaking in the high peaks horizon. I had the lake to myself.

It was a chilly, overcast, mid-November day. Mist hovered over Ampersand Mountain, whose slopes I had hiked as a boy hunting & camping with my Dad. Off in the distance, I glimpsed snow high on Whiteface, framed by other cloud shrouded peaks. Some familiar old friends. Some not.

I sat there, in my canoe, on the lake, taking it all in. I had made one last trip to the lake to hunt ducks. As I sat there, thinking, remembering, alone in my canoe with my worries & thoughts, in that moment, I realized one truth. I go afield not seeking game, but in search of myself.

On the journey, this poem found me. I hope you enjoy it.

P.S. Oh, and yes. So did a duck.



Alone The Forest

Frozen Mist Dew

Fall’s Fallen Carpet

Kaleidoscope View


Awaken The Sunrise

Call Of the Crow

Winter’s First Flakes

Horizons Peak Snow


Briskly My Pace

Trail’s Rocky Ascent

Conifer Canopy

Sweet Balsam Scent


Squirrels, Chipmunks, Blue Jays  

Thoughts, Worries, Dreams

Meandering Hopscotch

 Chick-A-Dee Streams


Each Breath Inhales

Life’s Gurgling Flow

What Lies Ahead?

Only God Knows


Maples Seek Slumber

Beyond Harvest’s Last Moon

Mountain Lake, Silent Swamp

Call Of The Loon


As Wild Winds of Winter

Claim Nature’s Last Frozen Leaves

Whispers The Willow:

“Live This Day”



Until Our Trails Cross Again: