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Friday, October 10, 2014

Just the Shadows are Speaking

Dark shadows still fall;
Dead leaves still carpet the lawn;
Everything's different.

 Giant truck glides by;
Then pulls back with a soft beep
And backs up the hill.


 Three empty barn doors;
Dark squares against the bright red--
Contrasting silence.


Dry leaves on the road
Find solitary display
Away from the mass.


 Shiny, bright and red,
Christmas berries are early;
(Or just in their time.)

The road is empty;
Just the shadows are speaking,
In unheard voices.


 Some ferns are yellow
Dropping their Spring green for Fall;
Others hold the time.


 Up at the road's bend,
Bright sun illumination.
Then it vanishes.


 Rosabelle takes flight,
Her feet just leaving the ground.
Sky is the limit!

Holding it In Yellow Vaults


Last walk for a while;
Will there be any wild bears?
Or blue unicorns?

A short gap of time
Gives the walk some poignancy--
Future remembrance.


They keep on falling,
Swept along in the cars' wake.
Soon they'll all be gone.


It's Maggy's back yard,
Filled with herbs and tasty bites;
Good place for a pee.


Never bored by shadows--
Dark reflections of substance.
Look! I've become one!

 Liquid lake of light
Lies glistening the woods,
Tempting me to dive.

It's buzzing again--
Chain saw mosquitoes rip wood
Deep in the forest.

Leaves capture the sun,
Holding it in yellow vaults
As it struggles free.

Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Hovering Silence


A sudden greyness;
Clouds have swept the sun away.
(Was it ever there?)


 Yellow, brown and green
Sway and shudder in the wind--
Autumn tricolors.


Geese and chicken cry;
Rooster crows above them all--
This cock must be heard!


 Suspended in air
Puff clouds roll across the sky--
Hovering silence.


 They were in the sky--
White puff kings of the air.
Now they're in the stream.


 Old mother log
Now host to dead leaves and moss--
Nourishing decay.


 Hollow shots ring out;
Woods have become a war zone
For the unarmed deer.


Monster in the woods
Hiding from the loud hunters
Sits there, still as death.


Tuesday, October 07, 2014

The Gap's Never Filled

It's seventeen years:
My mother, teacher and eyes.

Gap will never fill.


When the sun comes out
It feels like it's the first time.
Then the clouds arrive.


The leaves have showered;
My front lawn's a brown carpet.
Still they keep falling.

The lone chicory;
Its petals are falling off.
Look! It has a bud!

There are new owners;
Same empty swing is hanging;
Same ball caught in leaves.

They fall noiselessly:
Floating softly to the ground--
Leaves without a breeze.


Morning after rain,
Leaves don't skitter on the road.
They hush their presence.


Bottom of the hill;
Brief break of bright sunshine--