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Monday, August 31, 2009

For a Second, Fall is Here

A brisk west wind blows;
For a second, Fall is here.

Shadows are muted.

A flurry of tufts
Bend gently into the breeze.
Hens keep on clucking.

Violet and fluffy
Soft flower crowns the thistle
With its coat of thorns.

Thin blanket of clouds
Filter the rays of the sun
Casting ghost shadows.

Splattered on the trees
From some unknown location:
Green lichen abounds.

Feathered bombardier
Flying at amazing heights
Hits target on road.

Now the sun breaks through
Casting shadows all over;
Caressing wild grass.

Forest is silent;
Just the ringing in my ears;
Then women's voices.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Celestial Ping Pong

The sun is back again;
Late shadows dapple my tree;
All the sounds are hushed.

It's blue thistle time;
Bee sucks summer from the bloom;

Soft breeze waves the grass.

Dragonfly takes off--
Helicopter's prototype,
With its own mission.

Frog kick or open jaw--
Cloud hovers motionless.

Pick up scoots below.

Sunshine at the bend;
White flowers grow in the shade;
Coexistent light.

In utter stillness

Hawk settles on the tree limb,
Blending with the bark.

Grabbing at the sun
Bright flowers return the light:
Celestial ping pong.

Grooves in the tree trunk
Have dark and deep dimensions,
More than merely three.

Copulating clouds
Enjoying scant privacy
Couldn't care less.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Is This the Same Road

Is this the same road?
Lone pine cone lies on gravel.
Am I the same man?

It's blue and white now;
Chicory and Queen Anne's lace
Light up gray morning.

Lighting up the field
Goldenrod marks summer's end.
The stream still babbles.

How could I worry
That this walk might prove too much
When it's just enough?

Black eyed Susan clump

Near a bright bed of white blooms
Both still holding on.

By side of road--
White flowers I never saw
Are starting to wilt.

Unchanging puddle
Still reflecting the same trees
Filled by countless rains.

White, blue and orange--
Three denizens of the fall,
Here at August's end.