I often wonder how truth filled a tree's rings really are. Most of my research points toward how the climate has been measured. Experts say tree growth is very complex, as is it's interaction with the surrounding environment. As a child we'd rush over to a stump to count the rings. I don't see much of that anymore. Tree rings create the paper that which I write upon. I take those words into the studio. The shows I record reach around the world. Tree rings create rings of people.

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

Extremely cold this new day. Yet the forest doesn't seem to feel the same. The music is the bird's song, gently playing while the sun is rising. Birds are my Jazz. My heart is always listening even while walking through this forest when it's 29 degrees.

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

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.