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Monday, April 28, 2014

Does Memory Serve?



 

Moss on cement block,
Soaking up the morning sun;
Giving up its green.
 

 


Light is all around
Throwing shadows on the house--
Illumination.



 

 Green plant is growing
Next to my kitchen window.
(I've never seen it).







Straight parallel lines
Intersect over the road
With silent power.






Far voice from a house
Floats faint down over the road
Passing through my ears.





Was there ever snow
On this warm and sunny road?
Does memory serve?






In this soft stillness
Even the woods are subdued,
Their singing muted.







Sharp sound of chopping--
Young man at the side of road
Reduces the trees.



Sunday, April 27, 2014

And Whispers Softly




Brighter yellow now
Each day and the blooms enhance
Softly and subtly.


 


 Next to my window
Lone flower turns to the sun
With complete silence.


 


 Hanging over trees
The soft clouds filter the sun
Which always breaks through.



 

Pointing up the road
They bow to the strong upwind--
The dried Pampas plants.

 



 Invisible wind
Touches and trembles the trees
And whispers softly.





Playful jumping dog
Doesn't know how old he is--
Eternal puppy.






Above the mountains
Soft clouds escorting the sun
Part to let it pass.





Touch of sun enough
To showcase a simple tree
As a work of God.





































































Saturday, April 26, 2014

It Is a Soft Day



The fog has lifted;
Gray's given way to yellow;
Forsythia Shines.

 


 Drops twinkle on wire;
Others fall slowly from eaves;
The world's aglitter.


 


Meditative cat
Has taken over my seat.
(Contemplating birds?)

 
 


 Lilacs are ready--
Green leaves promises of blooms:
Lavender perfume.






Sun has disappeared
Leaving the textured gray sky
To cast its blue haze.





Yellow green lichen
Grows on the rotten tree branch:
Phosphorescent glow.





Sunshine and mist mix
Sometimes changing their places.
It is a soft day.





The old king stump stands
Still surrounded by courtiers--
Once saplings, now trees.












































Thursday, April 24, 2014

Unwatched or Cared For


 



 Sparse forsythia
Waving yellow in the wind,
Reflects the sunshine.

 



 Flash through a mirror;
I turn to see a runner
Jogging in the street.




Peeking through dead leaves
A green renewal of life.
(Some might call them weeds).




Unwatched or cared for
Delicate blue flowers spring
Through the winter's leaves.





Lying in the woods
A shiny pile of garbage.
Who could have done that?




Shadows in the road
Weave gently in the soft breeze;
Above, tall trees hum.






Stump congregation
Survived another winter--
Older and leaner.





The road is empty
Just as it was in deep snow.
Eh bien, plus ├ža change.




















Wednesday, April 23, 2014

At Top--A Promise


 



 Those April showers
Are surely coming my way
As May approaches.


 




The porch is shiny
From the recent torrent of rain.
Cat chews his food.

 
 
 

Alfred comes calling;
We've been friends for a long time--
Bovine acquaintance.



Sky is breaking blue;
Clouds so slowly glide away,
Like smooth dance partners.


 


Greenish yellow bulbs:
Forsythia blossoms bloom
Slow and delicate.



 


 Sun transforms the road,
Casting its careless shadows;
(Then it vanishes).


 



Gentle drops of rain
Click softly on my jacket.
The clouds are winning.


 



 Bottom of the hill
Forsythia's in full bloom;
At top--a promise.