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Friday, March 20, 2015

Cogitating Squirrel



 






A lone icicle
Hangs shining from my drain pipe.
Its friends have all gone.





 





Cogitating squirrel
Tries to figure out his path
To the bird feeder.




 




 Crows chatter softly;
Other birds call in the trees;
Ghost of a plane sound.










No clouds in the sky;
Shadows fall abundantly
On the sunny road.








Above rushing stream
Solitary piece of ice
Hanging immobile.










The dead fallen tree
Lying perpendicular
To its own shadow.



 
 



 Faded sumac buds
Hold on through many seasons.
Do they ever fall?








The ancient boulder
Has sprouted its whiskers.
(It looks much older).



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