Children's voices chirp,
Then the wind blows them away
Like puffs of sound light.

Cluster of asters;
Fluttering orange ribbon;
Both at the wind's whim.

Now the sun is here;
Seconds before there were clouds--
Morning mosaic.

A loud wind's rustle
Shakes the trees and moves the clouds
Shifting light and shape.

Peeling from the tree
A rough mottled piece of bark
Once a source of life.





Myriad of shapes
The lichen paints the tree trunks
A living palette.

Wind is roaring now;
This second there's nothing else;
Then all is quiet.











Large ferns of autumn
Spread like green fans by the road
Embracing the sun.