Saturday, January 26, 2008
Gray sky portends snow;
Now wind blows on the field;
Cars pass back and forth.
The smell of wood smoke
Curling out of the chimney
Touched my nostrils.
Single frozen drop
Hangs down from a slender branch;
Stream rushes beneath.
Forsythia branch
All brown and twisted brambles.
The buds are hiding.
Clusters of petals
Cling to the mother bush--
Once bright white, now brown.
Beneath an old tree stump
A window to the beyond:
Whiteness of more snow.
Squirrel's always hiding;
Wherever I look, he's not.
I know he is there.
Snow covers the grass
Which covers the ancient rock
Which covers the ground.
Solitary tree
Stands among the other fir--
Brown evergreen?
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