.post-body entry-content { margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; }

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Rebel Forever


A sliver of sky
Like a sideways icicle
Hangs over the trees.

My little bird house
With patch of snow on its roof--
Still waiting for birds.

A clump of dead leaves
Frozen into a sculpture--
Ice performance art.


 Huddled in the snow
Pampas lean on each other
Shorn of their sunshine.

Through hole in the ice
I can see water flowing--
Look! There's its sparkle!


The rebel fence post
Leans against its fellow posts;
Rebel forever.


 Through the icy air
Sound of a querulous crow
Asking crow questions.

Lying in the snow,
Delicate fallen pine branch,
Dainty in repose.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

With How Many Feet?

January 27

Trees through the window
Wave faintly in the mirror;
Morning illusions. 

Was this a blizzard?
No. Just fine layer of snow--
Dashed expectations.

January 28

 January morn,
Birds flutter from the bushes;
Bright and bitter cold.


 A flash of bright red;
Cardinal flies into the bush;
Leaves color behind.


Shadow on the hill
Crawls on snow up the driveway.
(It's barely moving.)

A tiny mountain
Lies alone in the forest
Molded by the snow.

Milkweed puffs are gone;
Only a few bare husks remain;
The rest are bare husks.

Single line of tracks--
What animal walks like this?
With how many feet?

Sunday, January 25, 2015

(Not to be Repaid)

Water in the glass
Shakes on the kitchen table
As I am writing.


Noiseless clod of snow
Falling swiftly to the ground
Followed by others.

Shadow on the tree
Last for only a second
Then cloud swallows it.

Scattered through the snow
Thin branches are silhouettes
Of a Spring to be.

Lines along the snow
Borrowed from adjacent fence;
(Not to be repaid).

Many woodpeckers
Have feasted on this old stump.
Now, it's mainly holes.


Lying off the road
Small Siberian tundra
(Visiting Woodstock?)


The road is empty;
All I have for company
Is my monkey mind.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

A Veil Descending

They came in darkness,
The soft quiet flakes of snow;
Still, they keep falling.


They silence the world,
These legions of falling flakes,
Muted and constant.


Tiny plants cupping
Ever descending whiteness
Make their own bouquets.


Overturned trash cans
Care not for the falling snow
Lying side by side.


 Blurring clear vision
Relentless and persistent
A veil descending.


The message of the street sign
Wiped clean by the snow.


 Even the snow clods
Do not make the slightest sound
Falling from the trees.


The only foot prints
On this entire journey
Are mine going forth.


Friday, January 23, 2015

Intersecting Worlds


Sun shadows and snow
Lay blank and flat on my porch;
Then sun disappears.

Aloe plant stem
Trembles on kitchen table--
Its own vibration. 

A flat blue gray light
Covers the road and my lawn.
Large plow rumbles past.


The evergreen bends
Against a thousand onslaughts
Of wind, snow and rain.


High on a tree top
Lone bird looks out on the field
While its friends take off.


Sinuous brown line
Twisting through the white forest
Marks the old stream bed.


There's no time table
For the dead leaves hanging on;
They'll fall when ready.


From a thousand miles
My brother sends a message--
Intersecting worlds.


Warm scent of horse shit
As I walk back up the hill;
Oh yes! Ghost is back.