Specks of white float down;
They dance in the morning sun.
Passing snow flurry.

Wind across the field
Picks up the cold of the snow
And roars in my ear.

One white speck of snow
Disappears into the road.
Now there are others.

Swiftly sunlight flees;
Suddenly everything's gray.
Then poof! Sun is back.

My feet crunch the ice
Then they squoosh the softer snow.
Winter percussion.

Now they're on the porch--
The two grizzled old black dogs;
Always together.

Specks in the sunlight,
Snow flakes driven by the snow.
They're racing nowhere.

Now they are sleeping
Their gray muzzles snout to snout.
The two old dog friends.

Clean bridge of ice
Across the racing waters.
A December stream.

The sunlight is fresh;
It washes the white snow field
And paints the red barn.

On the soft snow lawn
The schnauzer lies and watches;
A brown teddy bear.

The wind is hollow;
It echoes around my ears,
Then it disappears.

Stream is iced over,
Snow covers the dark waters.
Do they flow under?

Bells hang from mailbox:
Shiny green and bright silver.
A Yuletide posting

Straight lines on the snow;
Here a square, there triangle.
Sun's geometry.

The road glistens wet;
Square sign shade on the snow.
The sun is playing.

Bright light on the snow;
Trees cast their shadows starkly.
Car sounds far away.


The stream is quiet;
Faint rippling under the ice.
A distant tinkle.


High on the snow hill
Two black dogs sit in the sun,
Still, part of the woods.


The woods seem endless;
Stark tree shadows on the snow;
All life is muted.


The white hill is steep;
It ripples the woods higher;
At the top: blue sky.


Sky is clear, cold, blue;
The sun broadcasts the shadows.
It's supposed to rain.

Chickens watch the snow;
They see the slanting white lines
From the dark barn door.

Tree limbs are frosted;
The stream winds through the white banks.
Snow falls silently.

Bright sunny morning;
A crisp wind blows in my face.
Somewhere a hammer.

Sun light on the stream
Sparkling the rushing waters.
I grumble aloud.

Ladder in the woods
Lying flat on the brown leaves,
Too tired to stand up.

Car sound in the wind;
Then the car races past me
Leaving just the wind.

Tree limb bends over;
Gnarled branch above the ground.
Ancient canopy.

Spring colors long gone;
Now there are brown shades and green.
A muted rainbow.

Up the sharp steep hill
Mother jogs behind her pram.
Baby sleeps inside.

Faint whiff of a skunk
Drifts from nobody knows where.
Ghost of a fear past.

There's frost on the grass;
There's thin ice near the still stream.
First of December.

Bare bushes rustle;
Ten tiny birds scoot around
Then whoosh to a tree.

The stream flows softly
And tinkles by the road side.
I see a black ghost.

Sun spreads on the fields
Slowly emerging from the clouds,
Like a second dawn.

The trees are bare now
Revealing hidden houses.
Winter strips the veils.

Black dog trots ahead;
He's taking his morning walk.
I follow behind.

A loud whining buzz:
The house takes on a new face.
The smell of cut wood.

Grizzled gray dog barks;
Young black Lab stops in his tracks.
Mexican stand off.

Shadows on the road;
Wind hums softly in my ears.
Then a gray cloud comes.

The woods are humming;
The wind plays between the trees;
The leaves are racing.

The three mailboxes
Stand side by side--one open
Like a hungry mouth.