26 March, 2017

Third Space

Head space in the third place,
does cartwheels of profound work,
races with time given by
parameters of societies norms.

A mountain climb is to think, to write, to be.

Adirondacks, hold that space
waiting for my mind to catch up with my feet.
Pen to paper, reveals hidden words
as the wind rushes by whistling, you've come home.

The opening to the sky and earth below inspires my thoughts to paper.

Alone now on this bald rocky ledge
dangling feet, moving to
the beat, of the rhythm, of the words togetherness
like a favorite song moves through time.

Head space, within the third place, has its work to do before the rains come.

Copyright Denise A White 

24 March, 2017

Seasons Observations

Wet and cold fell 
from the gray spring sky,
as winter wept it's last goodbye.

The ducks came out to play.

In the vast landscape 
of shades of dingy white sheets,
the crested, red-breasted merganser
punched a bright colored hole 

His pregnant mate swam near him.

Leaving a trail like a v, 
the coot headed toward the pair
and the beautiful goose honked its way home.

My eyes slowly closed as I saw with my ears what my eyes had beheld.

Copyright Denise A White

23 March, 2017

The Ice Went Out Today

Twilight ascends bringing on 
bright rays that reflect
ice crystals into the
eyes of the geese-

that come swooping in with
the seasons change,
marking the 

Putting on breaks like an
airliner on a runway, 
geese land on a 
field of ice-

still floating between
currents, rippling 
the surface of 
open water.

Never mind the open lake waters
it is more fun to walk on ice,
flapping wings to
the tune of the

grabbing the branchlet 
with cold feet, as the
lake hums

The ice went out today.

Copyright Denise A White 

22 March, 2017

I Am Who I Am

Feisty, obstinate, and out of control 
walking into a room after the bell,
eyes piercing your every move
a check scrapping the

Full of life, and bright as a new penny
rearranging the closet of supplies
for next year, because
you had run out of

Dancing like a foo foo bird in the rain
your tent was wet, you were tired-
up the hill, in the mud 
with a flashlight, I 

Running, full out and out of control

our first meeting, felt like-
happy, because you were
not my student, my

Faces, now friends, older
wiser adults, seeking
the past when we
were much


I am who I am, because of you.

Copyright Denise A White

17 March, 2017

At The End; In The Beginning (The Move)

Memories filled my eyes,
drops of rain rolled down my face;
the maple wood, shone like a new penny

I was tired.

Time had taken my spirit
like the snow takes my tan in winter,
and the sun set and the moon rose as if they knew-

A new life emerged.

06 March, 2017

Tai Chi

As the bud opens to the rain on its lip
so do we open at the mountain top
when we glide our arms 
effortlessly up,

then down to the valley below
moving, as the gentle flower
opens to a new day.

On its stem it flourishes
as we do standing 
on one leg,
looking beyond
into the mist.

Master of our universe, we bow to you.