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Sunday, April 24, 2011

Is It Greeting Me?

My own roaring stream;
Bright forsythia blooming;
Is this day just now?

Swelling lilac buds
Seem to have sprung over night;
Casual magic.

A child's voice calls;
It's so distant and unseen;
Is it greeting me?

I wear no coat now,
As sun and clouds do their dance.
My feet want sandals.

Up from the ivy
And brown leaves, spring pale blue blooms;
Soft unseen bird chirps.

Warm Easter Sunday;
Bright cluster of pink flowers
Stare at St. Francis.

Like joyful litter
Dandelions line the road;
I can't help but smile.

The abandoned shack,
Head popping through the roof;
(Abandoned no more)

Friday, April 22, 2011

Mother Nature's Joke

Gray as Grandma's hair
Yet not nearly quite as soft
This dim April morn.

Despite this Spring cold
Forsythia's are blooming--
A yellow sprinkle.

Swirling overhead
Three birds dive, swoop, rise again--

Their own birdy tag.

Somewhere a dog howls
Lonely as a timber wolf;
Then birds take over.

One week until May
And yet I put my gloves on--
Mother Nature's joke.

Feels like snow today
As the forsythia bloom
And the woods turn green.

A splash of sunlight
Breaking through the gray clouds
Reminds me of Spring time.

Dandelions wait
For the warm sun to bless them.
It is getting late.

Monday, April 18, 2011

And Distant Darklness

Table looks like mist;
It's only an illusion.
Outside, sun's brilliant.

Plump, twin lilac buds;
Now I know that it is Spring--
In my own front yard.

Yesterday's rainfall--
Today's mirrored mud puddles
In the green barn yard.

No longer just buds,

Forsythia turns yellow;
Touched by a cool breeze.

In one day's down pour,
Instant lakes, torrential streams
Seething greenery.

Forest is dappled--
Sunshine, shadows, brown leaves, earth
And distant darkness.

The familiar bend
Never really familiar.
(I pretend it is).

Just off the road side
A sparkling rush of water;
River by my feet.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Cawing Crows, Gray Sky

Rhododendrons wait;
Their buds sit expectantly.
(It's almost freezing.)

Winter coat again.
Will I ever wear sandals?
Maybe next July.

Even in gray cold
New green blades spring from the ground;
The sun is hidden.

The gray naked goat
Shorn for the expectant Spring
Doesn't stop munching.

Cawing crows, gray sky;
A cold wind blows up the road;
My spirits waver.

Old rusty mail box
Leans on the telephone pole.
Did I hear it sigh?

In hollow tree stump
There are some empty acorns--
And no oaks nearby.

A bird and a plane
Compete for sounds in the sky.
Plane fades, then bird stops.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Wind Ripples Puddles

Shadow of a log
On the table of my porch;
A strange place for that.

Sunlight through pictures
Leaning against my window
Makes them translucent.

Bright morning sunshine
Etches trees on the road;
Wind ripples puddles.

Another damn bird
Flies before I photo it;
Are they camera shy?

This sparkling ribbon
Hanging through the cold winter
Blows in the Spring breeze.

On the Magic Lawn
Giant orange iron beast
Set to eat the earth.

The gnarled tree monster
Still holds the rock in its mouth.
When will it eat it?

Snow drop blooms have gone
Melting with the last snow patch;
Magical flowers.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Swift Water and Light

Light on the table,
Casting shadows of the book;
The silent sunshine.

Is Spring really here?
Will there be snow tomorrow?
So many questions.

Forsythia buds;
Laundry hanging on the line--
Fresh signs of the times.

The moss on the rock
Glows as the stream rushes past;
Swift water and light.

Red robin, green lawn;
Soft hammering of woodpecker;
"Tick tick" in the woods.

Dead logs in the woods--
One bare, one hosting plant life:
Dimensions of death.

Round, flat, green petals
Open to the morning sun--
Clover has arrived!

Even in the sun
As birds sing and flowers burst
Cars go rushing past.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

It's Dandelions!

Stella creeps around;
A single car rushes past;
Everything is still.

Where are the flowers?
Bare forsythia branches
Are just a bramble.

Tangled mound of hay
Leaning precariously
Once crowned with silver.

Her long nose sticking
Through the slats of the wood fence.
(The Basset's best part).

Beyond bare tree limbs
The mirrored stream flows softly.
A distant dog howls.

Chaotic green spikes
Shoot up from the forest floor:
First chives of the Spring.

In shade of the rock
Thick leaved green clusters abound--
The new ground cover.

Small bright yellow spots
Emerge from the brown dead leaves--
It's dandelions!