.post-body entry-content { margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; }

Thursday, March 31, 2016

(Is This Time for Real?)

Spring comes so slowly
With no bursts of verdant green--
All in the waiting.

Spots in the bushes--
Birds are waiting for their turn
To fly to feeder.

Collette is watching
Rozabelle walking on stilts;
("These humans are nuts.")

Two geese at the pond,
One standing and on sitting--
Both still as water.

Dead leaves are still dead;
No resurrection has come;
Buds are still waiting.

Robins on the fence
Their beaks upraised in bird pride.
Then they fly away.

Dandelion light
Shines again from the roadside.
(Is this time for real?)

Only at the top
Does the fir tree have needles;
Below? Long bare trunk.

Circle of sawdust; 
But there's not tree that shed it;
(Where did it come from?)

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Mourning Dove Coos

It's almost freezing;
Thermometer gives advice
(But just a measure).

The brighter the sun,
The dirtier my window.
(No transparency).

What is their secret:
These silent, peaceful bovines
Always meditating?

Pale moon over tree
Fades in the light of the day;
Mourning dove coos.

Dead leaves lie on moss 
While the stream runs underneath--
Shadows fall throughout.

Rocks, moss and shadows;
Cooing of a mourning dove;
A soft Spring morning.

Mabel and Gilda
Barking a happy hello
Lose interest and leave.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Like a Baby Born

With her arms folded
Walker passes by bushes
Like a faint shadow. 

Morning air is pink;
Pink the bushes and branches
Like a baby born.

They're never angry
These two old bovine comrades
Exchanging a kiss.

It's done its job--
Queen Anne's Lace has spread its seeds;
Now the husk remains.

Beginning to bud
Bush gives birth to green sprouts
That glow in the sun.

Growing in the woods
With no human involvement:
The first springtime chives.

Faint rat a tat tat
Then woodpecker goes silent.
(He knows I'm listening.)

Standing on a mound
A small grove of new trees stand:
Evergreen saplings.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Shrieking its Whiteness

Shadows on my barn
Etch across the wooden planks.
Birds hop on feeder. 

Through forsythia
Walker passes as shadow
Melting in bushes.

Collette chews her cud
As Olivia stands by--
Study--resting cows.

Rudely awakened
Mabel checks the sounds of chickens
Clucking shamelessly.

A single bird's tweet
Rings out high above the tree;
Single tweet responds.

Green tennis ball sits
Surrounded by still shadows--
All rackets have gone.

Up the gentle hill
An old couple jogs their steps
Panting in the sun.

Through the dark forest
Evergreen glows in the light:
Magic of the sun!

Shrieking its whiteness
Birch tree holds up its own "V".
(There is none whiter).

                                                              From walk of March 26, 2016