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Saturday, March 28, 2015

This Seventh Day of Spring

Snow flakes fall today
This seventh day of Spring.
What will summer bring?


Red head peeks over--
Cardinal checks out my kitchen;
Sees me and speeds off.


 Flocking through the air
Lazily winding their way--
These big Spring snow flakes.


 Ice puddles again;
Winter dons it frozen shape.
Dim geometry.


 Cones and soccer ball
Lying in the empty yard;
Evidence of kids.


Delicate sapling
Grows in the filthy snow bank;
Dog shit,  its neighbor.


Dressed for the winter
Ghost munches his morning hay
With horsey focus.


Cans nailed to trees
Bear their own secret treasure.
(Secret? They're empty!) 

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Distance Disappears

Mist shines through the trees;
Sun and rain come together
Obscuring themselves


The kitchen window
Frames the gray misty forest.
Squirrel trembles on branch.

The end of the road
Lies right in front of my face--
Distance disappears.


 Silhouetted gray
Bare trees stand against the mist
And melt into it.


 Lichen covered logs
Glow in the misty morning:
Beacon in the fog.

The stream of dead leaves
Cuts through the melting snow field
To join its sisters.


Arrows in the fog
Grow fainter around the bend;
Will they disappear?


Two bright yellow eyes
Creeping slowly up the road
Become a small car.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Persisence of Light


Squirrels are taunting me;
"Dixie" plays in the background;
The birds keep eating.



The sun shines brightly,
Showing my dirty windows--
Where there's up, there's down.

Color on the lawn
Flashing red and leaping blue--
The kids play again.

I forget my hat--
Step into the hope of Spring
And breathe winter's last.

This little white cage
Has enclosed nothing but air
The fall and winter.


From light through branches
To light through the split tree trunk;
Persistence of light.


Sunlight on the snow
Is bright and more forgiving
On this warm March day.

Out of sight, not sound
Wild geese passing over head.
(From my memory?)

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Deepening the Mystery

God of ice puddle
Glaring back into my face
Will melt with the Spring.



Tough guys with their peers
But they're freaked so easily:
Plump tufted titmice.

 They swoop like children
Who pretend to fly in air:
Small fat chickadees.

 Road into the woods
Ends in a frozen snow field
As thick as a wall.


 Three trucks driving by
Stir the road into a fog--
Mystery of dust.


 A distant wind chime
Mixes briefly with bird songs--
A faint soft swirling.

Shadows round the bend
Deepening the mystery
Of what lies beyond.


 Empty paper bag
Lies stranded with mouth open--
"Will someone fill me!"

Soft green moss growing
On the hard steel gray boulder--
Mix of elements.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Fuzzy Bird Flower


 Winter white goes on;
Spring is just a memory
About to happen.

The tufted titmouse
Crashes into the feeder--
(Other birds don't laugh).


Fuzzy bird flower
Emerging from the thin air
Heads for the feeder.


White wisps of smoke flow
From the old farm house chimney
Joining the soft clouds.

Assholes with beer cans
Decorate the road, field, stream--
Art for imbeciles.


Snaking through the snow,
Dead leaves' forgotten memories--
Brown stream of the Spring. 

No longer alive
They're hosting a new life form:
Lichen-tattooed trees.

The mound of blackness
Seems much colder than the cold--
A burned out bonfire.