Mist on the mountain
Has melted into sunshine-
The morning is here.
Blur of evergreen
Behind the sharp dead tree leaves--
My kitchen window.
Last winter's pine cones
Lie in the strips on the road.
Where will they go next?
Late in the season
Bee sucks from goldenrod--
Hope springs eternal.
High above others
Rhododendron plant reaches.
(There always is one.)
Shadows etch the barn,
Darkly sliding up driveways--
Make road mosaic.
One spot of sunlight
Lights up a piece of the stone wall
Making dark, darker.
Standing on its stem
Dead leaf absorbs the sunshine
And glows as if alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment