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Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Still Looks Like Winter

Late morning sunshine;
Shadows falling on the snow.
Still looks like winter.

Sixty degrees out
(So the thermometer says).
But there still is snow.

Closer to the fence
Collette lifts her voice in Spring joy;
(Or to clear her throat).

Slowly circling
The hawk seems so nonchalant;
Not so the field mice.

Below the surface
Branches float in monochrome
Perpetually brown.

They're disappearing
This couple rounding the bend;
Now they're truly gone.

High in tall dead tree,
Distinguished just by its sound:
Woodpecker hammers.

Snaking from a rock:
Solitary sumac grows,
Reaching for the sun.

A Blank Wall of Gray

Walk of March 25, 2017

A blank wall of gray
Between me and the mountains--
Soft power of mist.

Smoke from my roaster
Lifts and meets the mist outside--
Welcome each other.

Sailing through the air
A dark frigate held aloft:
Bird against the fog.

Still dark, stark and bare
Trees stand against the bareness--
Winter silhouettes.

Ravaged by winter
Steel fence brought down by soft snow;
Persistence furthers.

White has become gray--
Pristine snow banks caked with grime--
Winter transitions.

Embedded in white
Orange, pink and half eaten:
Apple core in snow.

The blacker the stump
The brighter the light that shines
Through its tiny eyes.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Ticking Falls Down

 Grayish blue today;
Sunlight hides behind the clouds.
Everything is still.

It's not like a lamb,
This shifting end of the month.
It's more like a ghost.

Through the dark barn door
Light shines from the other end,
Only seen in dark.

Ticking falls down;
Not the silence of snow flakes--
Soft tapping of sleet.

Cutting through the sky
Faint calling to each other
Wild geese return.

It's getting darker;
Forest is singing louder;

Snow covered wood pile
Next to abandoned stable;
Waiting for some use.

Tiny ice pellets
Falling freely from the sky:
"Tic tic tic tic tic."

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

A True Bovine Kiss!

 The air is blue gray,
Yet there is a hint of sun-
The Spring Equinox.

Smell of fresh coffee
On my finger tips today--
Smoking memories.

Holes in the snow bank
Illustrate the march of Spring.
Melting has begun.

Perched on a branch
Crow caws into empty air.
(There is no response).

Collette and her friend
Make their morning affections--
A true bovine kiss!

Sinking into snow
Pine cones lie beneath the tree
Looking bedraggled.

Shadows seem softer
As clouds filter the sunlight
In the quiet woods.

Trapped in the brambles
Large ball of snow imprisoned.
Strong sun will free it.

Whisper of an arch
As a tree limb bends over
To touch another.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Transient Nature Shows

Slow, a car slips past--
Whooshing, and then it's not there;
Transient nature shows.

Last day of winter,
But snow doesn't seem to know,
Lying on the ground.

Peeling from the trees
Snow makes ready to collapse
In face of the sun.

Spring is really here:
Mabel's outside and barking.
(She's forgotten why).

Slowly descending,
Long white line in the blue sky,
Without a murmur.

Both sides of the road
Hidden deep in the forest,
Mourning doves whimper.

Perched on a snow bank
Frozen and vividly brown:
A fresh pile of dog shit.

Dark brown and waiting,
Buds at the end of branches
Holding their treasures.