I met with a squeaky tree while walking through the new sun. Like a coward I jumped! My imagination envisioned the squeaky tree was preparing to fall. Yesterday, I stood with an eight point buck. We stared at each other by way of embracing our present space. I may be afraid of the squeaky tree but the buck with a rack that big opened my love for nature even more. I wanted to return to the squeaky tree with my recording equipment. Not to steal from it's soul but to hear God's voice.

Thanks for being part of the conversation I am the Poet In The Forest. A children series I penned out in the 1990s. None of it would be possible if it wasn’t for this forest in South Charlotte, NC. I talk about it so much that I thought maybe it’s time you get to meet all that inspires me. Thanks for being part of the conversation

Thanks for being part of the conversation I am the Poet In The Forest. A children series I penned out in the 1990s. None of it would be possible if it wasn’t for this forest in South Charlotte, NC. I talk about it so much that I thought maybe it’s time you get to meet all that inspires me. Thanks for being part of the conversation

Thanks for being part of the conversation I am the Poet In The Forest. A children series I penned out in the 1990s. None of it would be possible if it wasn’t for this forest in South Charlotte, NC. I talk about it so much that I thought maybe it’s time you get to meet all that inspires me. Thanks for being part of the conversation

The forest sits so silent on this 28 degree day. The wind with it's chill sounds more like a roar. Missing from the painting is the heat from the rising sun and the sound of a squirrel's claws gripping a nearby tree. So peace filled yet extremely noisy. If we were to fall to the forest floor to nap could we locate sleep?

Not a mountainside. Nor a giant national forest. This forest. So much has been written about and created within this inner city gathering of trees. Some of the roughest deep pits, long stretches of uphill walking and so easily flooded by spring and summertime southern downpours. You can't build on it. The animals know it. That's why they call it home.

Thanks for being part of the conversation I am the Poet In The Forest. A children series I penned out in the 1990s. None of it would be possible if it wasn’t for this forest in South Charlotte, NC. I talk about it so much that I thought maybe it’s time you get to meet all that inspires me. Thanks for being part of the conversation

Taking long walks is a great way to calm down the head and heart. So many millions venture out everyday. But they're totally connected to their earbuds and smartphones. Being listening to music or sharing a conversation. What are we tuning out? Mother Nature wants to speak but we aren't allowing the connection to happen.

A very cold morning in the forest. In the south we call it cold to the bone. This type of weather is actually very good for all living things. It strengthens the immune system while plants are given the go ahead to keep weeds and insects away. The flip side is cold weather deepens the humans depression. A very cold morning in the forest. Physically you feel like you're part of something.

The journey. The challenges. The ability to push through. The attempt to save giant elephant ears. After putting them planting pots to survive the winter cold indoors, my dog decided she would hide her food in the soil. On two occasions she took the plants out. Just when you thought they were dead up popped another leaf. A resurrection. Now I turn the thought on us. How many resurrections have we blindly experienced? Things we assume are gone but keep growing in the very place they were last seen.