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

Saturday, April 29, 2017

Like Fallen Stars


Brightness in the air;
Maybe it's forsythia
Echoing the light.

Everything is still;
Just the wind chime sways slightly
In the empty air.

Melting into wood
Ant scurries on the railing
With no place to go.

Olivia's head
Raised at just the right angle
To get a good scratch.

Above the swift stream
Dandelion looks over
Content in its place.

Forsythia goes,
Its petals dotting the ground
Like fallen stars.

Trash cans upended--
Bears have taken the good stuff.
(They have no manners).

He says it is "quince"--
These soft gentle red blossoms;
But what is in a name?

Friday, April 28, 2017

Full, Not Forbidding

Wind chime pendulum
Swinging slow, hypnotically
In the faintest breeze.

White flower bush glows
As it sways in the breezes
That shake the wind chimes.

Munching contented
Collette plows through the mud plants
While her friend watches.

A few blossoms grow
From the barren lilac tree
Dainty and lonely.

Softer than joggers
Bicyclist whirs swiftly by
Smoother than the wind.

As old petals drop
New petals prepare to bloom--
Forsythia dance.

By side of the road
A small green wilderness stands,
Full, not forbidding.

Right by the mailbox
Stretching yellow tentacles:
Forsythia reach.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Lights Up the Morning

It's almost time now--
Thirsty rhododendrons drink
Gentle Spring rain drops.

No food and no birds--
It's a simple calculus
As ancient as life.

Forsythia falls--
First petals carpeting the ground
Signal the deluge.

Collette reaches high
To catch leaves on other side;
(Isn't it always?)

Two wild geese strutting--
Awkward. Not air. Not water;
Exploring the land.

Down by the stream bank
Vivid group of yellow blooms
Lights up the morning.

Christmas ornaments
Have fallen from the mailbox
Leaving gaudy trash.

At base of dark tree
Dandelions shine brilliant--
Spring's many contrasts.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Dreaming Its Dark Dreams

 It's so very late;
The sun does not know the time--
It's not to be seen.

White and yellow rule,
Illuminate my front yard.
Still no lavender.

Mirrors on my porch;
Same bird sitting on same wire;
Forest is singing.

Crumpled on the road,
Wrinkled, wet and colorful:
Discarded flyer.

Drawing attention,
Its own shades of beige and brown;
Bi-colored tree trunk.

Rising above green,
Brown dead evergreen tree--
Its own illusion.

With its mouth open
Old tree trump sits in the woods
Dreaming its dark dreams.

From the gray gravel,
Lifeless, hard and crumbling
Billowing green plants.

Monday, April 24, 2017

There's No Stopping Life

A week from today
Off to see aunt Charlotte--
Thence to Seattle.

A soft opening--
Sun cannot tell  time of day;
Afternoon? Morning?

Between gray slate tiles
Dandelions pop their heads.
There's no stopping life.

Billowing Spring scents
Up the road and tantalize,
Touching my nostrils.

Sole forsythia
Climbs higher than its fellows,
Heading for the sun.

Perpetual dog
Barks every time I walk past;
(I never see him).

Single daffodil
Pops up where the crocuses
Bloomed and disappeared.

Angry thoughts collide
With the sky and fragrant woods
Leaving me senseless.