Fellowship of Rot

Brightness through the gloom--

Forsythia hanging on

As winter comes nigh.

Sun comes sliding in,

World is suddenly alight--

Gloom a memory.

Collette's shiny nose

Pokes through the fence, checks me out-

Then she casts her eye.

A brittle dead leaf

Skips swiftly across the road,

Fleeing from the wind.

Luminescent leaves

And a random pile of twigs

Lie in a broken heap.

Nestled in the log

Dead leaves have found a new home--

Fellowship of rot.

Smiling to himself,

Demon in the tree looks out:

"What fools these mortals...."

In icy snow and heat

This water keeps on flowing--

Some things never change.

A Murder of Crows Argue

 A flat harsh sun shines--

Is it an omen today?

What significance?

Everything seems brown;

Forsythia has no more leaves.

Fall is here at last.

Collette chews her cud

Staring into empty space;

Then she blows some snot.

Roosters keep crowing;

What agitation have they

This bright morning?

Even dead leaves glow

When the sun is shining through--

Illumination.

Tree has turned russet;

A murder of crows argue;

Cars zip past swiftly.

Glen is dappled brown

With dead leaves and sunshine--

Fall morning pastel.

Thoughts of election

Have melted into the woods,

Subdued by the trees.

Is This A Long Cow?

It's an hour later;

(Really, an hour early).

I don't understand.

Sun flows in and out;

Yellow leaves shake in the breeze;

Leaves--color of rust.

Is this a long cow

That stretches across the barn

Complete with six legs?

Milk weed pod unfolds,

Opens its delicate wisps

To play of the wind.

On the mirror stream

Dead leaves float in brown stillness--

Don't sink and don't swim.

The fence is leaning

Under the weight of green leaves

And wooden old age.

The rust brown puff balls

Have shed their snowy white coat--

Autumn transition.

Brown leaves are holding;

They refuse to leave their trees--

Autumn rebellion!

Then a Beam Breaks Through

A gray steel morning;

There's no mention of sunshine.

Then a beam breaks through.

Coffee roaster whirs,

Air is filled with the fresh scent.

Smell and sound combine.

Suspended in flight,

Pine cone has remained in place

For almost a year.

Berries in the bush

Burst out bright, hard and shiny--

Red beacons in gloom.

Old metal bench sits

Where nobody else will sit.

It has its own space.

Rolling up the road

Bright stripes follow the sunshine;

(Then they fade away).

Swelling and growing

Drawing life from the dead tree--

Fungus in fullness.

Abandoned shack's door

Opens to other windows--

Portals through portals.