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Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Last Day of the Year


Last day of the year
And the sun seems new again.
(It always does).


Light has become blue;
Clouds sneak in front of the sun.
(Their hide and seek game.)


 Crow on his high perch
Takes off like a blackened sail
Into the sky sea.

It's a gloves-on day;
Olivia chews on cud
Next to long shadows.

Light floats on the stream
Hitchhiking on the water
Wherever it goes.


 This winter sunshine
Doesn't provide any warmth,
Only dark shadows.

Gray ice guardians
Stand around the water pail
Frigidly watching.

 The very last leaves
Still clinging to the tree top
Are mocking the wind.


Sunday, December 21, 2014

Footprints in the Snow


A pale white dusting
This shortest day of the year.
Winter's ghost appears.


 Suddenly grown old
Trees and bushes with their white
Like ancient sages.


 Footprints in the snow
Pass me and go behind me.
I cannot look back.


 The road is silent
Save for the high pitched singing
Of the wood spirits.


 The woodpecker stops;
He's near but I can't see him.
(He is watching me.)


In Spring they're white puffs;
In winter they become brown.
Always a contrast.

 Pine needles speckled
With a thousand grains of ice--
Each one translucent.

Joggers and walkers
And little puppy dogs, too;
Now the road is full.

Saturday, December 20, 2014

The World is So White!

With new eyes I go--
Cataracts lifted like veils.
The world is so white!


My little bird house
Still sits without any birds,
Summer, Spring and Fall.

The old barn's still red
Even though the wood shows through;
Wind scrape continues.


Where have they all gone--
Birds that built this tiny house?
New real estate?

Woodpeckers are through;
They have sucked this old tree dry
And left it to fall.


 Duet of chainsaws
Singing softly in the woods:
Rondo and a fugue.


 Halloween spider
Hangs from the merry mailbox
Under ornaments.


The tree stump's portal
Gives a dim view beyond it:
Beige like the tree stump.


Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Look Like a Friendly Prison

Not a leaf trembles;
All is still in the gray world.
The sun is hidden.
The porch railing slats
Look like a friendly prison--
Beg me to escape.
Blades of grass are few;
My lawn is yellowish green;
Soft moss takes over.
 Placid and flowing
Mirror stream reflects the sky
With bubbled whispers.
 Thousand water drops
Hang from the slender bush limbs;
Each a universe.
 Puddles of snow melt;
Soggy brown leaves in the woods--
Everything is moist.
 A blast of sunshine
And the roads and woods light up.
Just for a second.
 For over ten years
Monster stump has held the stone.
When will it let go?

Monday, December 15, 2014

Both Wanting Water


Gray pallored heavens
No friend to the sun's brightness
Clouding my spirit.


Gray sky, quiet earth;
Even the cars seem more hushed;
Everything's muted.


The gray octagon
With its bright red obverse face
Tells people to stop.


Silhouetted trees:
Bare limbs against gray sky--
A naked study.


 In black uniform
Bicyclist comes purring past
Like angel of death.


The empty stream bed
Flows through the snowless beige woods,
Both wanting water.

Dead branch places
Leaf on the stone pedestal.
New performance art.

A house through the trees;
I've never seen it before--
A witch's cottage?