Almost Skeletons

Morning after rain;
Leaves are soggy, road shiny;
Tree tops are misty.

Mist is everywhere;
Chickens chat in the bushes;
Insects plague my face.









Forest on a stump;
Many shades of green lichen
Suck life from dead wood.

Hollow sounds echo;
Barking dogs, twig fall, plane roar;
Distant car coming.

A time for mushrooms;
White hemisphere descends, then
Springs up on the lawn

Shaggy white pillars
Arise near base of the tree;
Not there yesterday.

Almost skeletons,
Tree branches reach for the sky,
Embracing winter.









Things green are greener:
Moss on rock, ferns, leaves and grass;
Colored by moisture.