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Monday, September 29, 2014

Soft, the Lone Bird's Chirp




 It's cloudy today--
Will I let my spirits sink
Or enjoy the light?


 



 My thoughts are inside;
Rest of the world is outside.
Will they ever meet?



 


Pattern on the lawn:
Memories of a ladder
Etched into the grass.



 



The hungry goat eats,
Looks at me for a second
Then goes on eating.





It's the bench's time,
Now among the fallen leaves
Ready for decay.


 



Soft are the shadows
On this muted cloudy day;
Soft the lone bird's chirp.


 



 Suddenly machines
In the woods and on the hill
Roar against the trees.





High above the clouds
An unseen airplane echoes.
(The leaves keep falling.)

















Sunday, September 28, 2014

They're Always Ready




This sunny warm day
Even the waiting trash bag
Looks elegant.


 



 Everything is still;
Only the colors have changed.
(Will there be winter?)


 


 The wild flower pot
Is growing three-hearted plants.
Just some stray clover.


 


 Wispy pampas grass
Bows and bends in Fall breezes.
Chickens keep clucking..



 


 They're always ready--
These high hanging beige pine cones--
To fall on my head.


 



 Small wild Christmas tree
Decorated by dead leaves.
Season reminder.



 


 Like an orange wall
Tall tree rises near the house.
(Provides orange shade?)


 


 It's sun sweating hot;
Brown boughs don't make it cooler.
Indian summer.























Fall Luminescence


 Saturday, September 27, 2014


 
Squirrel on my front porch
Leaps to a neighboring tree;
Becomes a gray blur.
 
 
 
 
 The light through the leaves
Shines bright orange and yellow:
Fall luminescence.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 He must be desperate,
This early Fall bumblebee
Sucking chicory.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Distant children's shouts
Float from the house on the hill
Unseen--apparent.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The new house owners
Have changed almost everything
But lazy fence post.





A fleeting silhouette:
Slowly falling leaf freezes
Caught by the camera.






I used to hate Fall,
Season of my father's death.
Now it is redeemed.






With low murmuring,
Three men by the wild garden
Speaking so softly.

 
 





Friday, September 26, 2014

With Their Yellow Blood



 Into each other
These Autumn days bleed
With their yellow blood.




 My porch plant sparkling
In the early morning sun.
Must have rained last night.



 


 A single dead leaf
On the flourishing green plant.
All come to an end.



 

 
 

 Leaves rule the day:
Orange, yellow, brown and green--
An Autumn palette.






 Leafless naked trees
Whisper to bushy neighbors,
"You shall be as I."


 



 Petals have fallen
But the proud asters still stand
Stripped slow by the Fall.



 


 Across the ocean
Of gray unforgiving rock
The fuzzy bear ventures.


 


 


 


On this blessed day
My thoughts  still flee from the road
To perch in limbo.



























































Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Look! But Do Not Touch!


 




Roaring sound again!
Grinding of wood--falling limbs:
Tree cutters are back.


 




Third day of Autumn;
Feels like early summer,
Save for dying leaves.





 My rhododendrons
Now a jungle of green leaves
Dressed for the winter.


 




 Olivia stands
As the tree cutters move in
Hugging and chugging.



 




 Rolling Spanish sounds
From the men fixing the porch
Floats over the road.



 



Will I never tire
Of this shadow dappled road?
Life kaleidescope.





 Thistles are friendly--
Spin soft webs around their spikes.
Look! But do not touch!







Even the hard rock
Is made soft by shadows
And gentle sun rays.