Will Always Be


Spirit, you are here
I have waited so many lifetimes
Transform me finally
So that our union
Will always

Words by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2017.  I did not take the picture (by Jeff Richter), but indeed I had an albino deer, just like this one, that lived near my studio for almost ten years.  I would see him and immediately felt his magic.

Seven – by Jacob Ilrag

Jacob is such a talented writer at eyes + words and he occasionally writes pieces that are in my genre.  I felt this piece by him really resonated and the scene of the woman at the lake was so very familiar.

Written by Jacob Ibrag Standing still upon a wet stone in the lake behind the cabin, she closed her eyes and began to count to seven. ‘Four, five, six,’ struggling to push the last number out of her lips, she turned around and was met with his worried expression. ‘What are you doing all the […]

via Seven — eyes + words

The Roots of Your Heart


So he died with your poems in his hand and now your tears pour like a thunderstorm in springtime.  And yet isn’t this what life really is?  We find moments to touch each other in the most profound ways so that the other feels truly known and loved.  Your tears may flow like the river, yet every one of those drops will be absorbed into the roots of your heart and the love of his spirit will always be within you.

Sculpture by Debra Bernier

Myth and Magic


There is magic and beauty after the first snowfall.  Snow clings to the trees while trillions of little crystals sparkle in the morning sun. A field of thistles captures snow in perfect little spheres like a field of cotton. And at any moment a white stag or a faun may come bounding through the forest, its myth and magic enchanting only those that believe.

Photography and thoughts by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2016

Deeper into the Forest


Do you think that I don’t see and feel your presence, even at a distance?  The water between us will not save you.  I knew your thoughts and desires before you even arrived.  Draw nearer to me and I will take you deeper into the forest, with nothing but the beasts of the woods, the full moon and the stars, and I will personally show you the true meaning of the solstice.

Words and photography by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2016

Encounter with an Owl


I had an encounter with an owl. I looked up and was surprised to see a large barred owl sitting on a lower branch not more than 20 feet ahead of me. Its eyes were closed, so I froze, hoping not to scare it.

Suddenly, it turned its head and opened one eye to look at me. We stared at each other for about three minutes. Then, without the slightest sound, she took off, her enormous wings flying directly over me.

Photography and thoughts by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2016

The Queen and The Stag


Some say
That I am a myth
Or the spirit of ancestors

But I could hear
The whispers of your mind
From the other world

You fell into
This magical forest
And chased me through the firs

And I waited
So that I could turn to you
My dark eyes a mirror

But all you wanted
Was a path to the lantern
And passage home

You are gone
Perhaps you were the illusion
But I still hear your heart

Poetry by The Bison in the Woods

My Snow Queen

My snow queen
I heard your whispers
In the icy winds
Of a cold starry night
And as I ventured
In the deep snow to find you
A covey of partridges
Scattered from a thicket
A horned owl
Cocked his head
And a black raven cawed
Already knowing
Our tragedy
But as I approached
You cried
One single tear
Of red blood
Said no

Picture from DeviantArt

The Wings of Icarus

If I had the wings of Icarus,
I would fly fearlessly
over the highest mountains,
the broadest prairies
and the deepest oceans
’til every breath consumed
and even my life
nearly depleted
to be with you…

The Lamentation of Icarus, by Herbert Draper c. 1898

Take You Fiercely

Can you possibly grasp the depth of my desire?
My spirit spins in a vortex of passion and heat
Earth has vanished, time has stilled
Only ravenous hunger for your conquest remains
And as I inhale the musky scent of your need
My hands tremble at the curve of your breast
And explore the wetness of your thighs
Sweet, inviting, parted and damp
I listen to the sweet purr of your voice
And your loving eyes implore me
To take you fiercely

Painting of Jupiter and Antiope, Bartholomeus Spranger, c 1596
Photo taken in the Houston Museum of Fine Arts

My Old Boat 

So much of our lives
We take for granted
What used to be thrilling
Slowly becomes mundane
Even neglected
My old boat
Is not the fastest
And her beauty
Has been surpassed
By newer models
On the lake
But there are moments
When the water is still
And the sun casts
Its last rays
In colorful hues
Across the water
I grab the throttle
Throw it down hard
To feel that power
Her surge forward
The wet joy
Once again

Words and image by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2017