Transit Gloria

It's gray and heavy;
Rain's just a matter of minutes;
Birds chatter, cars rush.

Silhouetted trees
Reach for a heavy slate sky.
Hens won't stop clucking.











A small instant pond
Reflects trees and and sky above.
The theme is water.










Dead branch and ladder
Lean against he broken barn,
Near the dirty snow.










Even in gray light
The moss lawn is still magic
Below crying crows.

Line of grayish white--
The snow banks have wed the road.
Soon they will join it.






Hanging from a branch--
Single clump of frozen snow;
Neither here nor there.












High up on the hill
Solitary patch of snow.
Transit gloria.