The Wind Does Not Care

The dark inner barn
Seems warm in the icy sun--
Backwards temperature.








Stacked against the house
Rows of wood waiting their turn
To alchemize.

A ghost in the sky:
Last night's moon still lingers on,
Its own reflection








Propelled by the wind
Wood smoke puffs from the chimney
To swirl through the air.

Cold slice of sunlight
Slashes down the thin tree trunk
Cutting it in half.

A thin metal can
Dwarfed in the ocean of leaves;
Its name is "Ultra".








Once this was a house;
Now just the rocks tell the tale
And the old washer.

The three last brown leaves
Shiver on the slender branch;
The wind does not care.

Crystalline tendrils
Suspended over the stream--
Ice above water.