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Monday, September 05, 2016

Maybe They Will Learn

Folded brown leaf lies
Neatly, next to the old broom--
Waiting on the porch.

Its green leaves outstretched
Catching the rays of the sun
Seems to wave at me.

Poised like a dancer:
Heron at edge of the pond
Watching me watch him.

Small green leaves climbing
Over the gray brown tree stump
Whisper life to it.

From the dark forest

A flat smooth patch shines brightly:
Flowing stream below.

Mysterious road
Appears to me on my walk.
I've never seen it.

Bouquet of briers
Erupts from the steel road fence.
Present,  anyone?

Bears have knocked it down
But they can't pick the lock yet.
(Maybe they will learn.)

Sunday, September 04, 2016

In Their Zig Zag Way

Monster on the porch
Lies flat against the shingles,
Thin legged and waiting.

Tree on my porch,
Happy to be sitting there
In the cool morning.

Rhododendron buds
Ready to burst into bloom.
(They'll wait for six months).

They're slowly falling:
Golden flowers in Autumn,
From yellow to brown.

Leaves fall without sound,
Floating gently to the ground
In their zig zag way.

Three people en route;
Gabriel has walking stick
Longer than he is.

Road is so silent
That I hear the woods singing
High pitched and tuneless.

Crossing the gray sea
Small black beetle moves onward
(Then it turns away).

Saturday, September 03, 2016

Soft September Morn

It's not quite cloudy;
Irish call it a "soft day";
Soft September morn.

 Green leaves are gleaming,
Reflecting the soft sunlight
Filtered by green leaves.

Green moss on my lawn
Taking over from the grass--
A soft victory.

Brown tree on the hill
Nestled among companions
Who will follow soon.

Clover, chicory,
Goldenrod and Queen Anne's Lace:
September harvest.

Always mystery--
What's lying around the bend;
Never know for sure.

Bright butter and eggs
Tempting me by the road side.
(I want to eat them.)

No trespassing signs
And padlock on the trash can.
(Air's still unfettered).