the !n(tro)verted yogi

Bernie Gourley. Traveling Poet-Philosopher

atop the cascade
sits a still pool,
burbling

across the lake
the pines stand straight
as hairs on end

trees stripped bare -
the walker, once hidden,
is exposed to sky

on one leg,
the sneaking heron
eyes the water

a tulip poplar 
stands beside the lake
in the warm sun

two geese feed
around a bench long
vacated

lakeshore ducks
with heads turtle-tucked
against autumn winds

a rustic shack
sits upon the hillside;
the glade, its porch

autumn’s dry grass
looks so brittle, but
waves gracefully

sunset flares;
& looks like a fire
on the horizon

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