A full wheelbarrow
Stands in the door of the barn;
Behind, the goats chomp.

The purple thistle
Blooms brightly above its thorns:
Look! But do not touch!

Pencil on the ground
Has something to write about
But no one to write.







Luscious white flowers
Hang in delicate bouquets--
Offers to the world.

There are more dead leaves;
Slowly the woods change color;
Winter's carpet comes.

Ticking behind me
A dry leaf has hit the road
And come to a halt.

Cars and trucks whiz by
Heading for destinations
Leaving the still woods.