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Monday, September 05, 2016

Maybe They Will Learn

Folded brown leaf lies
Neatly, next to the old broom--
Waiting on the porch.

Its green leaves outstretched
Catching the rays of the sun
Seems to wave at me.

Poised like a dancer:
Heron at edge of the pond
Watching me watch him.

Small green leaves climbing
Over the gray brown tree stump
Whisper life to it.

From the dark forest

A flat smooth patch shines brightly:
Flowing stream below.

Mysterious road
Appears to me on my walk.
I've never seen it.

Bouquet of briers
Erupts from the steel road fence.
Present,  anyone?

Bears have knocked it down
But they can't pick the lock yet.
(Maybe they will learn.)

Sunday, September 04, 2016

In Their Zig Zag Way

Monster on the porch
Lies flat against the shingles,
Thin legged and waiting.

Tree on my porch,
Happy to be sitting there
In the cool morning.

Rhododendron buds
Ready to burst into bloom.
(They'll wait for six months).

They're slowly falling:
Golden flowers in Autumn,
From yellow to brown.

Leaves fall without sound,
Floating gently to the ground
In their zig zag way.

Three people en route;
Gabriel has walking stick
Longer than he is.

Road is so silent
That I hear the woods singing
High pitched and tuneless.

Crossing the gray sea
Small black beetle moves onward
(Then it turns away).

Saturday, September 03, 2016

Soft September Morn

It's not quite cloudy;
Irish call it a "soft day";
Soft September morn.

 Green leaves are gleaming,
Reflecting the soft sunlight
Filtered by green leaves.

Green moss on my lawn
Taking over from the grass--
A soft victory.

Brown tree on the hill
Nestled among companions
Who will follow soon.

Clover, chicory,
Goldenrod and Queen Anne's Lace:
September harvest.

Always mystery--
What's lying around the bend;
Never know for sure.

Bright butter and eggs
Tempting me by the road side.
(I want to eat them.)

No trespassing signs
And padlock on the trash can.
(Air's still unfettered).

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Invisible Games


Coffee roster whirs,
Sends its smells into the air;
Autumn spice and warmth.



Leaves shake the sunlight;
Beyond them other leaves shake;
Beyond them, stillness.



Rubber band, dead squirrel--
Both lying still on the road;
Rubber band's not dead.


Distant shouts of kids
Float from the house on the hill;
Invisible games.


Back and forth he rides,
His wheels swooshing beneath him;
Back and forth he rides.


They've begun to fall
To make a winter carpet:
Brown leaves floating down.

It looks exhausted,
Ancient crumbling stone wall--
Divisions forgot.

From the tiny stump
Plethora of seedlings grow
The old begets new.


Saturday, August 27, 2016

Step Into Shadows


Leaves are transparent;
The sun's rays have become green--
Daily magic here.


Empty bird feeder
Has no pecking little birds.
(Doesn't have bird seed).


Olivia's butt
Is in the same position
Whenever she eats.


Three chairs and one swing
Empty of all occupants
Patiently waiting.


Solar heating sign
Obscured now by many plants--
(An irony here?)



Shadows on the road
Always the same--and different,
Like the road itself.


Graceful these leaves go,
Moving from green to yellow,
To brown and then gone.


The stream bed carries
Sunshine instead of water;
Doesn't look barren.


Step into shadows;
Blaze of hot sun disappears--
Just refreshing cool.