Outside the cow moos;
Inside, mother answers call;
Echoes in the barn.

Rising above snow
Old skeletal Queen Anne's Lace.
Group of birds cry high.

Birds cry, a door slams;
Two workmen talk on the hill;
My boots crunch on the road.




Tracks in the shadows,
Dark and hollow on the snow.
They both come and go.

The sun is brilliant,
Illuminating the snow.
Yet it sheds no warmth.

My familiar hill
Bathed now in morning shadows,
As steep as always.












A little dog yips,
Its shouts echo from the woods;
Racing car sprays dirt.










Tree has fallen down;
Weight of winter was too much;
It bows to the earth.

With branches outstretched
Young fir embraces the air;
Dogs in parked car yap.