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Friday, January 29, 2016

Discarded Bag of Dog Shit

A gray cold morning,
Birds resting on forsythia;
Not flying this way.

It feels like snow fall
Is just around the corner;
All sunshine has fled.

Resting on the tree,
Wood owl becomes part of it.
Owl will disappear.

There's just a red dot,
Marking where the tree has been.
Giant has fallen.

First flakes of snow fall
Softly without any sound.
Will fields soon be white?

Bright white birch tree stands
Tall to face the coming snow
And shame the gray sky.

Lying by the road
Discarded bag of dog shit
Neatly wrapped, shiny.

In sumac shadows
Small fir tree branch has fallen.
Looks like it's home.

Monday, January 25, 2016

At Whim of the Wind

Rising overhead:
Men in orange uniform
Cutting down the trees. 

Birds flee from feeder
As the sounds from the buzz saw
Envelope the air.

Collette and the kids
Watch the fall of the large tree--
Now, an empty space.

Above the tree line
Plane etches white in the sky.
Birds call around.

Luminescent leaf
Still glowing next to the stream.
It's frozen in place.

At whim of the wind
Dead tree limb hangs suspended;
I swiftly pass by.

A path of bright ice
Gleaming into the forest--
Fairy stepping stones.

My invading thoughts
Abduct and carry me off
Far from my footsteps.

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Light Cannot be Jailed

Freezing in the face
Of brilliant yellow sunshine,
This Sunday morning. 

Morning is all sounds: 
Hum of the furnace, car whoosh--
Well, birds are quiet.

Long shadows on moss--
Summer time is always here
With green on the ground.

Dark the thistle bush,
It's violet color is drained
But its sting remains.

Shadows and dead leaves
Lead to the deserted house,
Touched now with sunshine.

Dead leaves on trees
Standing just off of the road.
(When will they fall off?)

Discarded wood fence
Dumped in the pristine forest.
(Must be by mistake).

Windows through steel bars
Still show the bright field outside.
Light cannot be jailed.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Or Give Me a Kiss

Sun streams through windows
Showing off the dirty glass;
(Bitter with better) 

Coffee roaster whirls--
Room is filled with pungent smell:
Morning wake up call.

Collette comes over;
She wants to say a hello
Or give me a kiss.

Through the evergreens
Pond is beginning to freeze;
Stream keeps on flowing.

Shadows on the road  
Winding soft up the driveway
Into the forest.

Old forest stream bed
A chain of frozen puddles
Waiting for the Spring.

Discarded bumper
Lies at the edge of the road--
A piece of found art.

Unseen, in the woods,
Sounds of ripping and sawing;
Dead trees will succumb.

Hundred and forty
Rings mark each year this tree lived. 
It was just cut down.