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Friday, January 31, 2014

And Where is the Stream?


 Sun on the mountain,
Rolling so dramatically
As lifted curtain.



 Designs in the snow
Right on my porch bannister.
Why does it do that?


 



Sitting on the porch,
An offering of cookies
To all who want them.
 


 

Completely frozen--
Fast swift burbling water
To a block of ice.
 

 



 A stick in the snow
Not representing a thing
(But stick in the snow)



Where is the stream bed?
Lying under sunny snow.
And where is the stream?



Facing the morning
House on hill receives its light--
Bright benediction.




Smoke floats through the trees
Puffing full from the chimney
Dissolving in woods.












Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Goodbye Pete Seeger!




 




Songlight is merging
With bright shadows in the room--
Goodbye Pete Seeger!
 


 



Bright is the sunshine;
Dark, the shadows on the snow;
Crystal blue the sky.

 


 Old farm house is washed
In the early morning sun,
And rinsed with shadows.



Snow hieroglyphics
Or, perhaps.  a treasure map;
Or secret portal.


 



Is it dead? Alive?
Vegetable or mineral
Wrapped around a tree?





Up shadowed driveway,
Mixing the darkness and light,
But not blending them.





Amazing that sun
Can be so blazingly bright
And desperately cold.



 



Brown and black and white--
Leaf stuck in snow and shadows
Like a semaphore.










Tuesday, January 28, 2014

In Its Winter Dance

  


How rounded the strips
Under the gentle sunshine
In snow on my porch.

 

 The shovel's leaning
Even though snow's all around.
Why waste energy?


Back garden party
Now cloaked completely in white,
Waiting for the guests.



The stream is frozen;
Gray ice covers the surface;
Wait! There's a tinkling.


Sapling in the snow
Seems to be taking a bow
In its winter dance.



Sunlight in the woods--
Diverse shadows on the snow
Last for a moment.



Wooden lattice work
Stand vacant without function
Near empty garage.




Forest is singing;
It monotonous high pitch.
Other sounds are not.



















Monday, January 27, 2014

From Its Merry Weight

 
 
 
 
One bush is waving;
Others are still in slate air.
Then some fir trees bow.



White monotony,
Broken by some brown bushes.
I stare out window.



 
The square fenced in field
Contains nothing except white
In the chilling air.
 
 
 
 
 
Above a tall tree
A gray cloud is suspended
Just like a balloon.
 
 
 
 
Stirring in the woods
Wind whispers across the road;
Then murmurs away.

 
 
 
 
A flash of sunshine
Lights up the shadows in the woods,
Revealing strange shapes.
 
 
 
 
 
The sky is darker;
Wind is restless all around,
Roaring and pleading.


It surely will fall: 
Mailbox hung with ornaments
From its merry weight.

 
 
 


Long Way Until Spring





Shadows in the snow,
Silent patches of dark and light;
Branches wave lightly.




Rhododendrons shake
Bowing slightly in the breeze;
Their leaves topped with snow.





Footprints from my car;
Did some animal want a ride?
(Guess he went elsewhere).




A large shadow floats
Silently into a tree;
There it folds its wings.






Ice on the surface
Of the perpetual stream.
Still the water flows.




Skeletal plants grow,
Biding their time in this cold.
Long way until Spring.



The saplings have caps,
Uniformly round and white--
Their winter garments.



Still the dead leaf clings,
Not frozen or blown away.
A winter limbo.