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.

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.

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.