Organic Strands

Sand reset from man,
I become entranced
with the details of
single, swirling strands
of sensuous non-webs,
naturally highlighted
by Sun’s caressing hands
as time once again
slows, revealing all
there really is
to know
and leads my eye,
my soul,
through the untouched
and unknown
if not for my discovery.
I leave all undisturbed
as the week
uncoils from
my nucleic acids
and releases me
to breathe again.
The sea and
wildflowers within
begin to weave
with stems
and breezes
to stitch me
with soft sunbeams
and floral essences,
and I stay for
a few forevers
having the birds
with the familiar
carols heralding

Rooted to Trees

Tree-hugger for as long as I can remember
(my favorite nature companions),
known sky-and-cloud obsesser
to those who discover a drop of who I am.

I write of the sea
because I have been living by the beach,
and if my writing you currently read,
you know mountains aren’t my thing.

Wildflowers, especially white ones,
have become infused into my self-journey,
but if I could only keep just one,
I’d have to keep the trees.

Size does matter sometimes
for I need the large circumference,
and the older, the wiser, I find is true, 
(secret bias though toward non-coniferous).

In the national forest, 
I seek the inner grove, 
the largest sequoias I can find
so I can visit my soul’s home. 

A hand, a hug, upon the giants
fills my heart, and my authentic
smile naturally shows. 


Destination to nowhere,
traversing on foot,
no longer running away,
just enjoying the non-route 
and what blooms
from roots wildly seeded
and the textures
of the season
and infinite skies
ever shape-shifting
like my thoughts
and the way I get lost
far away in them.
Dusk hushes.
Frogs belt out.
Alert for bears
and human predators, 
I turn toward home
and the portal of color
gradually closes.
My feet return to pavement,
having being lowered
back to reality
which, these days,
is equally rewarding.
Outside in the mornings
and in the evenings,
essential to my emotional
I can’t imagine
not being gifted
this amazing, tranquil 
Thank you, Lord, 
for the free and natural
cure-all medication. 
In my backyard,
beneath the stars, 
I continue my wandering

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Release Me

How many stories
can there be in petals?

How long can I remain
unfound in the meadow?


How can the same patch of land
be so ever-changing?

How many more potential bad days
can Mother Nature keep preventing?

How is it that I am the only one bearing witness
to so much magic on a daily basis?

How much longer can the toad’s eye keep me entranced?
And the intricate details in the anatomy of insects?

How much time has passed in that outside world
while I sit among the birds and squirrels?

How is it that nonhuman friends have become so underrated?
And introverts given such a hard time for avoiding socialization?

My colleagues are ordering their second round of drinks.
I confirm with the waiter, “Just water for me.”
Torturous are the hours I prove I’m not an island!
(What’s a few white lies to protect my safe-haven?)

A dragonfly stops by to wink at me,
shows off how he can fly away so freely into the breeze…

The conversation continues. I do not join in.
Release me back into the wild where I fit in…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

I Will Never Tire

I will never tire of

morning birdsong,


the daily rising of the sun,


the ways the rays 

beam between trees,


the clouds that form

in such artistry,


the freedom flaunted in wildflowers,


all the colors of twilight hours,


the breezes that rouse my desires,


the stars that kindle my dreams afire,


for as long as I am alive,

I will never tire

of these natural delights,


never tire

even when the seasons fade away,

for a spirit saturated in the natural

never decays. 








Poem and images ©LauraDenise