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Monday, February 29, 2016

Calling their Way Home



















Etched against the sky,
Wild geese sing their journey
Calling their way home.




























Hungry bluejay eats
Gobbling up its dry corn.
(They're always hungry).

























Dark and dim the morn;
Cloud curtain over the sun.
Rain is in the air.























Silhouetted trees
Made dark by the sunless sky
Reach out with stark limbs.



















A family of goats
Posing for their photograph
Assume their best side.



























A few rain drops fall
Preceding the coming flood.
I must hurry home.




































































Saturday, February 27, 2016

Structure But No Life















Balmy spring morning
And it's still February;
Tomorrow summer?






























Squirrel becomes the tree--
His gray fur at the gray bark
Meld to each other.






























Green moss on my lawn
Has overtaken the grass---
Mother Nature wins.



























He's sunning himself
Standing against the red barn--
Unconscious contrast.






































Small circles of ice 
Surround the base of the tree--
A frigid rooting.





























Snow banks are still left
As streams sparkle in sunlight.
(What surprises left?)
























Hunched in the back seat
Young man glooms past in the car
Holding his story.

















Small circles of ice
Sun's rays illuminate veins--
Structure but no life.








































































Friday, February 26, 2016

Illusions of Depth














Bright morning sunshine
Plays upon the dappled lawn;
Silent wind chimes swing.











































Squirrel ponders, scratches,
Gets in praying position.
Then he skedaddles.

























Flotsam in the sun--
Old wreckage from something else;
Joined boards still standing.







































Driveway is a lake
Overpowered by the stream
Rushing ever down.






































Tiny waterfalls
Rush down the side of the hill
Flanked by icicles.




























Stray snow flakes floating--
They seem to have lost their way
'Mid water and ice.

























Thinly sliced tree trunk
Placed carefully on its edge:
A piece of found art.


























Over a decade
Tree monster has clenched the rock
And still won't let go.



















Reflections--shadows:
Light plays through dirty windows--
Illusion of depth.



































































Monday, February 22, 2016

Bubbles of Word Sound














It's George's birthday;
We don't celebrate it now,
But some remember.




















It's sunny and warm;
Thermometer says eighty.
(It's in the sunshine.)





























Sky is crystal blue;
Shadows dapple my side lawn;
Birds fly back and forth.





















Rooster keeps calling.

Is he shouting at the sun

Or is he chilling?






















Measuring the light
Tree stump becomes sun dial
With its long shadows.






















Devoid of people:
Small patches in the forest
As wild as Eden.
















A forest of green
Grows in its own universe
On a rotting log.





















Two voices floating
Next to the newly built house--
Bubbles of word sound.