Squirrels are scurrying
The morning is dark and gray;
Moisture everywhere.

The road is silent;
There's no movement in the sky.
Creatures are waiting.

Stream breaks the silence;
Rushing through the hushed woods.
An animal howls.

Nestled in dead tree
Small white patches linger on.
Their day will come.













There's no wind blowing,
Even the dead leaves don't drop;
Plop! There's always one.

Two stumps discussing
What to do about beer can:
"It simply won't rot."

Rain descends softly
First filling the trees with mist
Then tapping my face.

Hammer hollowly
Echoes through the still woods,
Accents the silence.

Dark sky silhouettes.
Lines and clusters intersect
Many dimensions