It's going to snow soon;
Air is moist and not too cold;
Birds seem to be rushed.
Ladder on the fence;
Hens cluster in their shelter;
Everything's waiting.
Ice along the bank
Reaches out tentatively,
But the stream rushes.
Tiny leaf cluster
Hangs on the bare branch tip.
It's early (or late).
Inside: t.v. glows;
Outside: a stream is frozen.
Two universes.
Moss ghost in the tree.
Or is it a transformed bird?
Possibilities.
Wind murmurs, sun breaks;
Shadows appear on the road;
Rocks and woods light up.
Silent and unseen
The wind quivers the fir trees;
They shake, dance and bow.
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