Outside, the world's still;
Inside, appliances hum.
My thoughts are neither.
Four bags of coffee
Sit in the sunshine and shade
Waiting to be ground.
Snow shovel on porch
Waiting for the next blizzard
Through Spring, Summer, Fall.
Tree top crow again
Surveys the world below him.
No one is higher.
Gurgling stream
From other side of the road.
This side gentle flow.
Dry leaves on the road;
For now, no breeze disturbs them;
Sharp shadows are still.
It is difficult
To photograph falling leaves.
They have their own time.
Dry leaves on dead tree;
Branch is bent over sharply;
Still, the ferns are green.
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