Why the Open Mouth?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clouds add a softness
To the forceful bright sunshine--
Curtain to the play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chipmunk eats  the seeds
I have scattered for the birds;
Thus, my intentions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Woodpecker rattles--
Pebbles in a hollow jug
Filled with juicy bugs.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dandelions back!
Death/rebirth in the same season;
A fecund Springtime.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garbage on the road
Strewn carefully--playfully;
Family of bears here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 First the cloud cover;
Then the shadows reappear;
Then the gentle breeze.

 

 

 

 

 

Busy at his work;
Pays no attention to me:
Hungry butterfly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why the open mouth?
Yellow iris seems hungry,
To eat the sunshine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was "spider spit";
(That's what we called it as kids);
Ominous white fuzz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Through Shadows

 

It's balmy outside;
Spring sunshine and not so hot.
(Why am I inside?)

 

Rhododendron blooms
Don't fall from the small glass vase;
They just radiate.

 

 First timothy grass
Pops up its innocent head--
Hay fever alert!!

Slowly moving form
Shifting imperceptibly:
Tai Chi on lawn.

Newspaper is gone,
Now just shadows on the stump.
It's never empty.

Bird calls and answers
Echo from unseen places;
Then fall into silence.

Humping so quickly:
Wild creature across the road.
Then he disappears.

First, hot bright sunshine;
Then, a blanket of dark cool:
Walking through shadows.

 

From walk of Friday, May 29, 2015

Breath of Warm Morning

Breath of warm morning
Filters from the sun lit leaves
To the wooden porch.

 

Shine is all around--
On the leaves and on the lawn,
And on my spirits.

 

 Rooster keeps crowing
And the hens keep on clucking--
All's well with the world.

Dandelion puffs
Have fled into the empty air
Leaving just their stalks.

The birds and the bugs
Singing their own melodies;
Some right in my face.

Sun plays in the woods
Making puddles of bright light
Amid the shadows.

Canopy of light
Shines through the translucent leaves
On the still road.

A blessed breeze blows
Down the road and on my face
Bringing sweet Spring smells.

Limp Historians

 

 

 

Rhododendron blooms
Shower the front of my house
With rays of violet.

 

Birds have forgotten
That feeder is there for them.
(They must look elsewhere).

 

Shadows on the tree trunk
More mottle the mottled wood.
The sun is playful.

Dandelion puff
Comes racing past my face--
Its mission: to land.

On this hot May day
Woods near the stream are verdant
(But the streams are low).

 

 

 On my walk I sneezed.
Nobody said "God bless you."
(Price of solitude).

 

 

 Slack balloons hanging
Tell of a finished party--
Limp historians.

 

Roadside orchids bloom
Far from any greenhouses.
Feisty and yellow.

The First Buttercup

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's gray and cold out;
Should I leave or should I stay?
(Procrastination)

 

 

 

New birds fly to eat;
Their wings flutter differently;
Struggle to ascend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Bent over in gray
She becomes part of the field
Near the grazing cows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first buttercup
Unveils its radiant face
And shines on the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some forsythia
Don't hear the call of summer--
(They think it's still spring.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The three reflectors
Bending back from each other
Like a hand of cards.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Roadside virgin land
Bursts a thousand shades of green--
Yerry Hill tundra.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dripping with yellow,
Myriad blooms opening--
(Just a roadside plant.)