.post-body entry-content { margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; }

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Backbone of a Snake

Stream across the street
Glistens in the morning sun.
It keeps on moving.

Empty bird feeder
Sits as an abandoned house.
No birds surround it.

Forsythia buds
Hang from the flowerless bush,
Waiting for the Spring.

As brown as the grass,
Young deer stops beyond the pond
To give me a glance.

The familiar stream
Etched with shadows, reflections,
And the wind's ripples.

Backbone of a snake
Etched in the road side shadows
By a playful god.

Peering from the trees--
Many photos of lost cat.
(Will he not return?)

Structure emerging 
From a jumble of spare logs
To a habitat.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Summer is Over


Squirrel doesn't  get it--
Bird feeder is not for him.
He keeps on trying


They can't get enough
These hungry birds keep eating;
Summer is over.


They always take turns--
Hungry birds waiting in line--
Politeness or fear?


Last to lose its leaves
And the last to regain them--
Seasonal clock.


 In his own shadow
Fallen chipmunk is sleeping,
Never to awake.


They come one by one
These leaves floating from the trees
To carpet the woods.


Silent as the leaves
One drop of rain falls on me
As the sun brightens.


Halloween mailbox
Welcomes the eerie season
With a creepy plant.


Monday, October 12, 2015

I Will Never Know


Lawn has long shadows
As the day light gets shorter.
Where is the sun now?



How yellow the leaves,
How yellow the sunlight through them,
How soft the morning.



Orange leaf and sun
Merge in illumination.
Leaf and light are still.


Crows caw overhead
Above the stink of gas fumes;
They both disappear.


Bright carpet of brown--
Leaves lie on the forest floor
Waiting for winter.


Deep forest shadows
Adjoin patches of sunlight
Natural borders.


What is he thinking,
My friend stopping in his truck?
I will never know.


The last chicories
Blooming as if they were first.
(No one has told them).


Friday, October 09, 2015

Suspended in Time

Flooding the kitchen
Bright morning sunshine lights up
Water and grapefruit.



Window is dirty;
Sunshine splats against the glass,
Flattens into light.


Leaf on a mushroom
Looks like it has been etched there
By a mother tree.


Forsythia blooms
As the brown leaves are falling?
Topsy turvy world.


Silently they land:
Small birds in the yellow leaves;
Silently they fly.

Three dots in the sky;
leaves suspended in time.
One blink and they're gone.


Humming past my ear--
Mosquito goes on its way.
(I feel rejected).


 Small furry shadow
Scurries into the dead leaves.
(What the hell was it?)


Wednesday, October 07, 2015

Swift as a Mushroom

Sunlight on dead leaves;
Bright yellow merges with brown;
Green still holds her own.
My barrier bush
Will disappear in winter
Revealing the road.
Pine cone on the line,
Its brown mixing with the white;
Road side palette.
Dead broken tree trunk
Is held up by its neighbor--
Forest communion.
Standing and growing
This large family of mushrooms
Near the empty house.

Warm winter's coming,
Fuzzy bear's have told me so.
(They've been wrong before.)

Portal through the trees
Opens on a sunken vale--
Look! But do not tread!

Swift as a mushroom,
Springing up in the shadows--
A house in the woods.