Sun paints the tree limbs;
They stand against the blue sky:
Broccoli branches.

Leaning reflectors
Stand opposite each other
Like drunken road guards.

Patches of sunlight
Scattered throughout the forest
Play with the darkness.

Road is bright ahead;
Sun splashed shadows on white house;
Stinky septic smell.

Among bare branches
Birds flitter in the sunshine;
They've no place to hide.

Plane drones overhead
Growing fainter in the sky
Leaving just silence.

It's bright and sunny;
Air is cool and breeze is light.
Is this December?

Bright sun, dark shadows;
Ribbons wave in the brisk breeze;
The stream bubbles on.

It flies through the air,
Soaring, bobbing in the wind:
A single dead leaf.

Red berry bushes
Among bare branches and dead leaves.
Nine days 'til Christmas.

Road is bathed in sun;
Blinding tar lines run down it;
Even dead leaves shine.

Caged dogs are barking;
They're reflecting their master:
Unfriendly neighbor.

Woman strolls past me
Her voice musical, foreign;
Distant memory.

Hawk floats through the air,
Swirling, bobbing gracefully.
Where's unlucky mouse?

The road is shiny,
Trees mirrored in the wetness;
Crows caw in the mist.

A misty rain falls;
Small drops hang from bare branches;
Birds call and respond.

Sky is luminous,
Colorless, filled with moisture;
Plane drones in dimness.

Rain falls in the woods;
Dead leaves catch the tapping drops;
Sports Saab splashes by.

Soft light in window
Cuts through the dark wet morning
But I am outside.

Tapping all around:
Raindrops patter in the woods--
Forest percussion.

Mist on evergreen
Softens and blurs the branches.
Now they're emerging.

Rain catches wood smoke
Swirling it between the drops.
Laura walks her dog.

Planes drone and cars hum;
Traffic above and below.
Blue break in gray sky.

Chickens up the road;
Further down the checked cat sits;
Ducks quack in the pond.

Mushrooms climb the trees;
They form little round white steps
And wait for fairies.

The dead tree trunk stands still;
Covered with holes, dead fungi;
Woodpeckers are done.

The road is silent;
Gray clouds have taken the sky.
Birds flutter and cry.

Dark spider branches
Silhouette against the sky:
Stark black on bleak gray.

Old gray muzzled dog
Looks out under gray eyebrows.
He matches the sky.

Gray road is grayer;
Dark woods grow even darker.
December morning

A soft wind ripples,
Out of place in the grayness.
Does it come from a dream?

Ribbon in the wind
Flaps gaily from a tree limb;
Sun lights bare branches.

Wind across the field
Catches the caws of the crows
And sweeps the sunlight.

Bottle in the stream;
Water bubbles around it:
A clear green stranger.

Dark slats on the road;
Sun shines through the picket fence.
Still, the wind is cold.

Soft motion ahead;
A deer leaps across the road.
Wait! There are five more.

Pale moon in blue sky,
Fainter in the bright morning.
Soon clouds will eat it.

Birds in bare branches
Flutter around like insects
Shining in the sun.

White ice on dead grass
Suspended above the stream.
Stillness over speed.

Long grass is frosted,
Lying white, flat in the field.
December morning.

The brown leaves tremble;
The cold wind sweeps up the road;
Still they do not fall.

Whiteness near the trees:
Small ice patches dot the woods.
The streams are freezing.

The sky is slate gray;
Cold winds rush down the mountain;
Dry seed pods rustle.

The bare tree branches
Reach out like delicate webs
And sway in the wind.

Brown leaf on the road
Poised sharply like a dancer
Waiting for the wind.

Now it it is solid:
Phone book wedged in tree trunk.
Will it outlast tree?

The red barn stands mute;
Three white ducks float in the pond;
Timothy grass shakes.

Yellow blotch on ground
Sticks out on the dead brown leaves:
Bright banana peel.

Early morning hush;
Even the birds chirp softly;
Wood smoke on the wind.

Bare trees on gray skies;
Green ivy climbs the dead trunk;
A confused season.

Invisible crows
Caw through the soft morning clouds;
The air is heavy.

Orange reflectors
Nailed side by side to the tree
Beneath "stay out" sign.

Feathers on light pole
Stuck in metal phone emblem
No longer in flight.

Almost December;
The air is moist, soft and warm.
When will the snow fall?

Statue on the hill:
Old black dog sits silently--
An autumn shadow.

It is darker now;
The dead brown leaves are glowing;
The earth holds its breath.

The trees stand starkly
Against a white wall of mist;
Only a hen moves.

It lies all around;
I try to move into it
But never get there.

Face against windows;
Eyes closed, dreaming of rabbits?
The small sleeping dog.

White against dark brown:
They stick out from the tree trunk,
Little shelf mushrooms.

The air is moist, fragrant;
There are no leaves on the trees--
End of November.

Mist on the mountain;
In the distance all is blurred;
Up close, all is clear.

The tall half dead tree--
At its bottom, shelf mushrooms;
At the top, brown leaves.

Old tree leans over,
Forms an arc above the road.
What force bent it so?

Bramble of branches--
A naked forest of twigs:
Forsythia bush.

Brown and beige on green:
Billy goat stands in the field
Munching on the grass.

Fence and bushes lean;
Helping each other to stand;
Will they ever fall?

Old rock on the hill
Looks out with many faces;
Now watches the road.

Wire in the bushes
Twisting among the branches;
Gray snake in brier.

Moss rock on the road
Facing the wrong direction.
Someone knocked it there.

Woman on the roof
Sweeping away the dead leaves;
It's not even spring.

The sunlit dirt road
Winds dappled into the woods.
Its end is unseen.

Forsythia's gone;
The leaves have fled the branches;
Just a few stragglers.

Small leaves on tree tops;
Alone, they reach for the sky;
Below, bare branches.

Ivy covered trees;
The dead tree trunks are green--
Leafy life on death.

The woods are soggy;
Moist brown leaves form a blanket.
There's a green bottle.

Small beads of water
Hang from the sharp pine needles
Which tremble slightly.

New soft shell mushrooms
Cling to the old dead tree trunk;
Soon they will be hard.

The old junked red car
Stuffed with bags and packages
Has nowhere to go.

Lichen on the trees:
Blotches of yellowish green.
There it covers the trunk.

Slate gray morning breeze;
White chickens peck in the yard;
Two frolicking goats.

Milkweed pods still stand,
Two of them have hanging puffs.
Won't a wind please come?

Red glass in the tree:
Reflector guards the driveway,
Comes to light at night.

Port holes in the tree;
Woodpecker has picked it clean,
Letting light shine through.

There is no breeze now;
Still brown leaves lie on the ground;
Birds stir silently.

A small puff of breeze;
Tiny yellow leaves tremble;
Then total silence.

Mechanical hum
Cuts the silence of the woods;
Bird thinks it's a mate.

School time is in the air;
The crisp smell of fallen leaves.
Bright light on bare trees.

A strong gust of wind;
A hawk glides through the blue sky;
Dry milkweed pods stand.

The trees are bare now;
Stubborn leaves hang from bushes;
Half moon in blue sky.

Sun shines through the woods
Lighting up leaves and branches.
Thousand shades of brown.

Red berry bushes
Shine out in the beige brown woods--
Forecast of yule time.

Cluster of dead leaves
Still hanging from their branches;
Some there in the spring.

Stream bed filled with leaves;
Further up water burbles.
Soon it will be clogged.

The moss covered rock
Has layers upon layers--
A million winters.

Bird like twittering,
Then the sound of grinding gears:
Garbage truck backs up.

White ducks in the rain
Quacking continuously.
What's better than this?

Rainbow of color:
Car oil on the rain swept road.
Metallic rainbow.

Splattering rain drops
Tapping on the shiny road;
The gray mist hangs low.

Bird cries in the mist;
Drops hang like globes from the branch;
The stream rushes on.

Two lights in the gloom--
Car swishes on the wet road;
Then just the rain drops.

Leaf falls with the rain;
It lands soggy on the road.
Ahead a squashed squirrel.

The glistening birch
Pops up behind the barn,
Bright, white, and naked.

Dried brown milkweed pods
Stand together in the field.
One vomits white silk.

The wind is cold now;
Dead leaves tremble on branches.
Hollow gunshot sound.

Scarlet berries peek;
Their bushes are everywhere,
No longer hidden.

The arrow points left
Directing all down the road.
(I feel to go right.)

White puffs on branches
Tremble gently in the wind.
They wait for release.

Pink gauze on the branch
Sparkles but cannot break free.
Halloween remnant.

Gray clouds and blue sky;
Sunlight shifts in the chill air.
I can see my breath.

Sunlight is spreading;
Sharp shadows and glowing leaves--
Then the gray cloud's hand.

Pine needle blanket;
Leaves float gently to the ground;
A mournful bird cries.

The deserted house
Stands hollow by the roadside;
Its windows are blank.

Black dog trots ahead
Waving its tail like a flag,
Then hunches to poop.

Dappled caged forest;
The bright sun lights up the wires.
Light escapes prison.

A ribbon of light:
Sun splashes the stream below
Which murmurs faintly.

Warm Halloween morn;
Bare ghost trees claw at the sky.
Witches are sleeping.

Wood smoke and grass smell;
Warm breeze bubbles with the stream;
Silent bird flutters.

The woods are sunny;
Few leaves block the gentle warmth.
Indian summer.

Bird nest high above
Revealed by the fallen leaves.
Autumn's nakedness.

The blank octagon
Faces grayly down the road:
Back of a stop sign.

Howl up in the woods;
Below ducks quack wheezingly;
Then all is silence.

Everything is quiet
Save the ringing in my ears
(Or are those angels?)

Orange bushes grow
Appearing throughout the woods;
Now is their time.

Sparkling brown leaves
Glitter falling in the sunlight.
Then a bird flutters.

Small birds fly about,
Zipping from bush to bush
Looking for cover.

The moss is still green
Amidst dead leaves, dying grass
Shaded by the pines.

Shiny milkweed pods
Lit up in the morning sun
Pregnant with their juice.

Spicy smell somewhere--
Mulching leaves or forest moss?
A scent of Autumn.

The collapsing tent
Stands askew in the back yard.
Summer is over.

Like a wooden bell
The strange bird clucks in the woods
Soft, invisible.

Web between the trees
Catches leaves, dust, and the sun;
Spider is long gone.

Acorn falls to road
Making a sharp tapping sound.
Where have the squirrels gone?

Sun sifts through the leaves
Filtering out the colors:
Orange, yellow, green.

Scent of fresh cut grass
Wafts between shadows and light,
Dissolves in the sun.

Blue aster cluster
Flourishing by running stream,
Never gets thirsty.

Fuzzy bear on road
Crawls across the gray expanse--
Uh-oh, car's coming.

Laura walks ahead;
Gilda trots alongside of her.
Sun paints both of them.

The wind blows the leaves
Sailing them through the sunshine.
They rasp on the road.

Here and there brown hills;
Dead leaves blown into mountains.
Still the warm sun shines.

The woods have no end:
Sun/shade go on forever.
The soft wind whispers.

The old black dog pants,
Lying in the warm sunshine
Then glances at me.

Bright red berries grow
Near the faded white flowers.
Winter is coming.

Shadow blotched road
Marking where the sun is not.
Leaf floats in the light.

Pickup races by
Followed by a whirl of leaves;
Then other leaves float.

The stone angel prays
Touched by the warm Fall sunshine
And blessed by the breeze.

Bright green grasshopper
Flies off road and into grass
Then becomes a blade.

The lone brown mushroom
Disguised among the dead leaves
Stands softly erect.

Basset in the sun
Lies sleeping and unmoving
Mottled like the leaves.

Cottage door's open
Letting in Autumn's breezes--
Sweet whiff of dead leaves.

Flat rock in the woods
Carpeted with light brown leaves;
An Autumn altar.

Cardinal in the bush:
Pastel red against light brown,
Flutters into flight.

Translucent Fall leaves
Take the sun and absorb it;
Opaque with a cloud.

The woods are dark now,
Sunlight driven from the leaves
Because of one cloud.

A flurry of leaves
Flying hectic to the ground;
Wind roars in the woods.

It's cold this morning;
Sun's lower than yesterday.
Still the rooster crows.

Smells are fainter now;
Just the dry must of dead leaves.
Second day of Fall.

Cat on the stone walk
Freezes as it smells and hears.
Far off a bird chirps.

My shadow's ahead
Stepping crisp into sunshine,
But then disappears.

Sun lit pine needles:
One spider's strand touches them
Seen for a second.

Asters, goldenrod
Grow together on the bank
And share it with moss.

The ancient stone wall
Crumbling around the old tree
Creates an altar.

A bed of clover
Their heads turned to face the sun
Don't even see me.

The green leaves tremble,
Painted yellow by the sun,
Billowed by the breeze.

A mottled tunnel:
Trees bend over sunlit road
Casting their shadows.

Brown in the middle:
Fuzzy bear caterpillar
Foretells mild winter.

Bright-dark, sun and shade
Woods are three dimensional.
Have they always been?

Leaves float towards me
Shaken by September's breeze,
And land silently.

A grand pile of shit--
Could this be a giant dog
Or small elephant?

Sun blinds through the trees
Splashing warmth upon my face,
Shadows on the road.

Crows are arguing;
Who knows what is their dispute.
The sound is hollow.

Cat and butterfly:
The cat wants to fly also
(Or at least eat it).

Short sleeved shirt weather;
Colors are starting to turn.
The rasp of dry leaves.

Leaf falls to the ground;
Hundreds of moist leaves await
Untouched by the breeze.

A pool of wetness
Glistens beneath mottled trees.
Mirror in the woods.

Holy milkweed plant
Stands pockmarked in the sunshine--
Some creature's breakfast.

Still the woods are still;
Sunlight falls through the green leaves
And makes not a sound.

Feather in the grass
Trembles with the passing car
Its owner long flown.

Dead leaves on a tree
Far outnumber the living.
When will they fall?

Raindrops fall gently;
Crows caw in the soft gray clouds;
Leaves go tap tap tap.

Raindrops touch the woods,
Leaves and stream make tapping sounds;
A blizzard of leaves.

The little dog sleeps
Framed in the cottage window
Soft grayness around.

The weathered tree stump
Divided into five parts
Painted green with moss.

Green lines in the road;
Lichen moves from the forest
To fill up the cracks.

The goldenrod glows
Sticking out from the hill's bank
Bright in the gray sky.

Cricket in the woods
Invisible, persistent
Chirps in the gray day.

Sky is pregnant gray;
The road is slick and shiny;
Smell of wood smoke.

Firm breeze and bright sun;
Pickup zips around the bend
Its tires whooshing.

Dancing road shadows
Quiver and then become still.
Lone goose honks above.

Soft whispering stream
Bubbles gently through the woods
Shining then dimming.

The road is silent;
A squirrel bounds into the woods.
Still there is no sound.

Black dog on the road:
My sometime walk companion
Wags her way to me.

A "V" in the trees:
View of another mountain.
Green beyond the green.

Humming tire wheels;
The hollow wind in my ears;
Crows caw and geese honk.

A dog barks somewhere;
The stream bubbles endlessly.
I watch my shadow.

Crisp Sunday morning;
The shadows are sharp and clear,
The sky crystalline.

Cat on barn driveway
Ambles without a care
And then disappears.

Squirrel crosses the road
Blending swiftly with shadows.
Now it's up the tree.

Garter snake on road
Coils mouth open to attack;
Doesn't know I'm safe.

The woods are shadows
Illumined by shades of green
And bright beige patches.

Squirrel zips across road;
Attaches itself to tree.
Motion to stillness.

Car zips up the road,
Cyclist zooms down the same road;
Then there is stillness.

My Yerry Hill Road:
I walk it a thousand times
And still don't know it.

Mother snake on road
Lies crushed with many babies.
Peaceful killer street.

Blue sky and gray clouds;
Queen Anne's lace and goldenrod;
A flutter of birds.

Sparkling spider nets
Hold water drops in the field.
But where are the bugs?

Dog wrestles a cloth
In the small cottage window.
No sound of his growls.

Sunshine in the woods
Makes mottled patterns of light.
Now the sky is blue.

Pine trees seem fuzzy;
Sun filters through the needles
And makes a green haze.

Blue chicory plants
Spring up by the road side
Waiting for a ride.

Sparkling tree glistens
Shadows quiver in the breeze.
Ant crosses the road.

Spider web hammock
Stretches between blades of grass
Waiting patiently.

The clouds disappear;
Shadows appear on the road.
The stone path glistens.

Murmur of a stream;
Limp ribbon hangs from a tree;
Signs of a rain storm.

White butterflies dance.
Flutter over blue flowers.
They don't seem to rest.

White fluff in window
Comes to life barking and yipping
And then settles down.

Woods are moist and green;
Leaves filter all the sunlight.
Rich smell is layered.

Small orange sparkles:
Jewel weed clusters by the road.
Truck does not notice.

Large poop in the road.
Must have been a giant dog
(Or something unknown).

Flies in eyes and ears;
What is it they hope to get?
They just piss me off.

Orange squashes on road:
Red efts that did not make it.
They keep on coming.

Mirrors by the road:
Rain puddles in the stream bed
Soon sink into earth.

Beginning again
The long/short summer over
My haiku journey

Everything is still;
My steps return to the road.
Just where have I been?

Fence is lush with weeds;
The field billows with beige hay;
Fly buzzes in my ear.

The leaves shake gently;
Butterfly zags zanily;
The light is muted.

Jewel weed lines the road;
Old black dog still sleeps on porch;
Sun peeps through the clouds.

Acorns in the road
Scattered about playfully.
Where are the squirrels?

Bright blue chicory,
Orange jewel weed, Queen Anne's Lace,
Red Marlboro box.

It's short sleeves now;
Rooster crowing, birds chirping;
Puffed clouds fill the sky.

Robin on a fence
Stands stiffly balancing then
Teeters into flight.

Sun peeks out from clouds
Shedding shadows on the road;
Stream burbles softly.

Outside green prevails;
Inside, t.v. colors splash.
Here the air smells sweet.

The sun is hiding;
Now there are no more shadows.
Only the birds speak.

Car rides by swiftly;
A young woman waves at me.
A passing sweetness.

Here the stream's empty;
Grass is growing in its bed.
Look! Budweiser can.

Centipede on road
Slinks swiftly to other side.
What will it do there?

The sun splashes me;
Rooster calls from the dark barn.
Insects are humming.

Small white parachute
Floats above the sunny road.
Poof! Dandelion.

Yellow flashing light:
School bus stops for a student
But there is no one there.

Morning sun on bush;
Dark tunnel between the trees;
Shadows in the woods.

Brown path in the woods;
Small pools of sun melt the dark.
Does it go no where?

The birds are chirping;
The morning sun splashes me;
My dumb mind chatters.

Dogs in the window
Yip and yap behind the screen.
Best that they stay there.

Shepherds on a leash
Turn and see me and then tug.
What is it they want?

Lumbering black dog
Walks stiffly towards me and stops;
We check each other.

Top of leaning tire
Looks like an old black turtle.
Perhaps it is one.

Small purple flowers
At the edge of the lush woods.
A car races by.

Amidst the lush green
The stiff sign pops out and up:
This Road is Private.

Faint tiny drumbeats:
The rain patters in the woods;
Maple leaf quivers.

Burst of purple:
Flowers near "No Parking" sign.
Are they illegal?

High grass in the field
And daisies and buttercups.
Where is the snow now?

Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.

Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.

Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.

Two doves on a wire;
The third dove has flown away.
Bird monogamy.

Purple, white and green;
Lilacs contrast with the trees.
There is no conflict.

Two doves on the road
Fly away and then return.
It is courtship time.

The fence is falling;
Tree leaves entwine bent links.
It's nature's embrace.

The dark, dead tree stump
Alive with moss and flowers;
Sculpture in the woods.

Flash of blue feathers;
The bird flies behind the tree;
Then disappears.

May breeze in my ear
Brings faint hollow memories
Like a large sea shell.

Standing in the road
Deer stares intently at me
Then goes on its way

Now it's lilac time;
Lavender and white compete;
Bird flies from the bush.

The field is clipped neat--
Timna's bat mitzvah here soon.
Robins peck the grass.

Sky is full of gray;
A cold wind blows down the road.
A hard rain will fall.

Chain saw is humming;
Empty wrapper on the road.
A cold May morning.

Vaulted trees ahead
Touch their tips above the road,
Make a green tunnel.

Thousands of white buds
Spread across the forest bank
Waiting to blossom.

Rain is in the air;
Maple leaves are trembling;
Lilacs bow and sway.

The woods seem deeper,
The stone wall goes on and on
Into the darkness.

Carried on the wind:
The whispered breath of lilacs
And the hope of rain.

Gray clouds, sun patches,
Shivering rustling leaves;
A fragrant wind blows.

A flash of yellow:
Finch flutters to the tree top
And joins the green leaves.

White petals flutter;
Pale lilac bends in the breeze
Broadcasting its smell.

Truck groans up the hillLeaving a gasoline smell.
Then the woods return.

The deep, dappled woods--
Shiny puddles here and there.
Smell of moist, warm earth.

Shadows on the road;
Bird calls monotonously;
Fly hums in my ear.

Now the road is dark;
A hawk flies beneath the cloud
Just a silhouette.

Now stream is rushing,
Tinkling next to the road.
Now the bed is dry.

Shadow in the woods
Still, dark and mysterious--
A dog or tree stump?

Purring lawn mower
Moves swiftly across the field.
Sweet smell of cut grass.

The thick smell of rain;
Robin flies to the bush top;
Everything's muted.

Yellow newspaper,
Crumpled soggy in the grass;
A bird's wings flutter.

Baseball on the lawn
Abandoned by its owners
Awaits with patience.

Small sprinkle of blue
Lights up a patch in the woods;
Counter to the green.

Thick gray sky holds promise;
The woods are muted and still;
Small van moves slowly.

Clusters of white buds
Hang their heads at the road's edge;
Soon they will burst forth.

Lavender clusters
Waft off whispered memories:
Voice of the lilacs.

The shiny green vine
Twists gently up the phone pole;
Whoops! It's poison ivy.

Road sign says "Our Road";
On it some gleaming water.
Is it "Our Puddle"?

Green leaves on bare trees
Sprouting as if by magic.
Not there yesterday?

Rooster crows loudly;
He knows not the flower's names
(And neither do I).

The stream moves faintly
As if it enjoys the sun.
What's not to enjoy?

Lilacs are budding;
Forsythia is dying.
The parade of Spring.

The woods look witchy;
Spring shadows and fairy light;
Movement in stillness.

Dandelion puffs
Stream gently above the road.
Passing travelers.

Woods are thick with green;
Sunlight filters through the laves
And falls in shadows.

Tiny blue flowers
Sprout in clusters in the shade
Draw my eyes to them.

Forsythia blooms
Now lie scattered on the ground.
Where has the time gone?

Dandelion heads:
Yellow sprinkles by the road;
One is a gray puff.

The little Shih Tzu
Bark and bounce against window.
It's more fun outside.

Calmness on the road;
Birds hoot softly in the woods;
Waves of insect songs.

Dead raccoon is gone;
A dark patch marks where it was.
Just the smell remains.

Pine shaped air freshener
Lying face down on the road
Imitates nature.

Air is taffy sweet;
Breeze brings grass and flower smells--
School's end memories.

Path into the woods
Covered with brown pine needles
Touched by soft sunlight.

A soft white seed puff
Floats and twirls above the road
Riding on the breeze.

Fresh smell in the breeze;
Wind comes swirling down the hill
And stirs the pine tree.

The rolling green field,
Now touched by patches of brown.
Colors have reversed.

Phosphorescent haze
Floats yellow above my head
Fresh forsythia.

Fluttering white moth
Hovers above the dead leaves.
What is it seeking?

Christmas ornaments,
Still hanging from the mailbox
Sparkle in Spring light.

Stone wall in the woods
Climbs to the top of the hill
Camouflaged by rocks.

Crazy little bugs
Buzz frantic around my eyes;
A sure sign of Spring.

Fluttering black moth
Alights softly on the road
And becomes stillness.

Pine branches swaying;
A breeze ripples up the tree.
How blue is the sky.

Robin in the tree
Sits and sways in the breeze.
He just won't let go.

A lone daffodil
Pokes up from the ground cover:
Blast of white on green.

"Reward! Find our Dog"
The sign is tacked to the poles.
The puppy is gone.

Shadows cross the road
With straight black stripes like zebras.
They're ghosts of the trees.

Pine needles sparkle;
The sun illuminates them.
I must close my eyes.

Small buds on the branch
Peek out green and cautiously;
Then sway in the breeze.

The dog frolics forth;
He runs towards me and goes past.
He's meeting his friends.

The bleached bare tree trunk
Stands amid the other trees.
But they are alive.

The Basset Hound's ears
Lift and flop as I scratch them.
He's in ecstasy.

The blinding white house
Lit up by the morning sun;
Two loud roosters crow.

A call and response:
Two cocks crow at each other
Across a wide field.

Tiny blue flowers
Are sprinkled across the lawn:
Spring awakening.

Yellow more yellow;
Green more green and brown more brown;
Magic of the sun.

Four men blowing leaves
Each with giant vacuums;
The dirt stings my eyes.

The wind blows a tree;
It sings a high groaning sound.
Even wood wakes up.

Two loud woodpeckers
Echo themselves in the trees.
Forest counterpoint.

Washer in the woods
Partly covered with wasp's nest
Still waits patiently.

The cardboard "Sale" sign
Hangs limply on the light pole.
The sale is over.

Green buds on the bush;
The sun illuminates them;
Just what will they be?

Rasping lawn machine
Fills the air with its racket.
A woodpecker pecks.

Bright speckled sunlight
Splashes gently through the woods,
Deep, now, but not dark.

The uprooted tree
Lies brown and bare in the woods
Next to a green bush.

Dead branch on rock ledge
Hangs off precipitously.
Will it ever fall?

A circle of rocks
Sits a few yards in the woods.
What tale does it tell?

The collapsed stone wall
Disappears into the woods.
Does it ever end?

Mist covered morning;
Ghost trees stand on the field's edge.
The road disappears.

Sun breaks through the fog;
Soft shadows fall on the road,
Then they disappear.

A burst of yellow
Erupts through the fog ahead:
Forsythia bush.

Trees are cloaked in mist;
They seem to whisper secrets;
Sun shines behind them.

Fuzzy green mullein
Sits happily in dead leaves;
Soaking up moisture.

Sun breaks through the mist
Illuminating the trees.
Plane hums out of sight.

Two dogs on the hill
Sit silently like statues.
They don't even bark.

The old black tree stump
Looks as if it has been burned;
Just the fires of time.

The fog has lifted;
Sun sprays shadows on the road;
A car hood sparkles.

Drops on the road sign
Hang there precipitously.
The sun shines through them.

Moist and spicy smell;
Shiny slug crosses the road.
Full April morning.

Two robins playing
Hop and flutter together.
Must be mating time.

Forsythia blooms;
Bursts of yellow on the fence;
Birds call back and forth.

Moisture in the air;
The rich sweet smell of the earth.
The woods are silent.

The sun is softer
Touching the electric poles
And muting shadows.

Soft clouds veil the sun,
Then slide away letting light.
A lone bird twitters.

White dog in the woods
Sniffs the leaves and then moves on.
Ghost with wagging tail.

Bright blotch on the road
Stands out against the grayness:
The first dead red eft.

White dog meets black dogs;
She lies down, they sniff and piss.
Dog introductions.

Black dog looks longing
As white dog leaves him behind,
Thinks, "She's pretty cute."

Warbling bird call;
Rooster puts in his two cents;
Light beam breaks through cloud.

Robin pecks at hay,
Comes up with beak full of grass,
Says, "Yichh. Where's my worm?"

The wires are humming;
A dove hoots its swallowed cry;
Forsythia buds.

Robin skims the field
Then stands stock still and waiting.
Where is the next worm?

The stream seems lighter,
The water clearer, brighter.
The sky is so blue.

The green beer bottle
Lies next to green chive cluster
Near the dead raccoon.

Black line in the woods;
Electricity through the trees;
All without a sound.

The spider tree stump
Leans grasping over the rocks
With nothing to grab.

Gray muzzled old dog
Lifts his head to glance at me
Then plops back to sleep.

The bare brown dead tree
Has fallen against two pines.
Like friends, they prop it.

It's both sun and clouds;
Small bird fidgets on a wire;
Basset wags its tail.

Robin hops and turns;
Man pulls empty wheelbarrow;
Spring preparation.

Chives stand like soldiers
Guarding the road side in clumps;
They must like car fumes.

My toes are happy,
Open at last to the air.
End of shoe hiding.

Small dandelions
Sprinkled merrily near woods.
Where did they come from?

The shadows are soft;
Sun glistens on car windows;
Distant chain saw sounds.

Shadow of a fan
Whirls ghostlike and silently
In the quiet house.

Small dandelions,
Their yellow phosphorescence
Shouting from the leaves.

An old dead brown leaf
Skitters and jerks on the road;
Puppet of the breeze.

Wind is in the woods
Whispering among the trees:
"It's time to wake up."

Boy leans against tree;
Looks languidly at brother.
It's vacation time.

Cock crows on Sunday;
Fat little bird ignores me;
No cloud in the sky.

Nose poked through the fence
Sad eyed Basset wants a scratch
Then back to his howl.

The fence posts ripple;
Their wooden slats skip and sway.
What good do they do?

The electric pole:
Wires stream from its crossed beams.
Crucified current.

The woods seem greeneries;
Moss on logs, sun through the pines.
The promise of Spring.

The sun is quiet
As it falls upon the road
Without a whisper.

A brown beer bottle
Lies in a roadside puddle.
It almost fits in.

Glisten in the woods;
It's a pool of fresh water.
No ice any more.

The dogs bark again;
Each time they do the same thing.
Why don't they get bored?

Birds sing all around;
The sky is gray and pregnant.
An Irish soft day.

White patch in the woods;
Could it be some stubborn snow?
No. Just some plastic.

Hollow woodpecker
Beats a tattoo on the tree.
Barking dog lies down.

The trees promise green;
The gray sky promises rain;
April is not cruel.

The forest is moist;
Water puddles in stream beds;
The dark earth is soft.

The green chive clusters
Stand pointedly together
Waiting to be munched.

"For Sale by Owner"--
The sign is tacked to the tree.
Who will own the woods?

I wear gloves again;
The sky gray and overcast.
Could this be April?

Flutter in the field;
Robins quickly hop around.
Cold wind brushes past.

Distant rooster crows;
The stream warbles on its way.
Ahead, car door slams.

The woodpeckered tree
Stands upright and full of holes.
Other trees have buds.

Above, a plane purrs;
Below, the road is silent.
I am in between.

Black glove on a branch
Points aimlessly towards the ground.
It seeks its owner.

The road bends ahead;
For now, beyond is unseen.
Then it's visible.

Etched against the sky
Spider branches of the trees.
Look! There's a small bird.

Black birds in the tree
Sit framed against the blue sky;
Cat strolls to the barn.

Blue sky, chirping birds
Languid stream and bright shadows;
Now it's really Spring.

All the dogs are out;
Unseen bird repeats itself.
Robins scout the grass.

Everything is still;
The trees bespeak their silence;
Sunlight falls quietly.

Now the sun greets me;
I walk down the winding hill.
You have to love Spring.

The jagged tree stump
Sits in the shade of the woods.
Spring will not change it.

Weather beaten barn
In the strong morning sunlight;
Tree shadows on it.

Sky is endless blue;
A lone plane cuts its surface
Leaving sound behind.

Shadows on the stream
Make its surface a mirror.
The water is still.

Car from wealthy house
Splutters and farts as it leaves.
Must be a worker.

Three D woods today;
In two days I'll be in France;
Now there's just my road.

Wind calls all over;
An old branch creaks behind me;
Ahead the trees bow.

My four legged friend
Joins me without a mutter;
We each do our thing.

My friend walks slowly;
She waits for me to catch up
And then trots ahead.

The air smells so sweet;
The breeze brings a promise of Spring;
A jogger trots by.

Still water in stream;
There's not even a ripple.
Soon the flood will come.

The monochrome woods;
Thousand brown variations,
Green splashed against it.

The shadows appear
As the sun breaks through gray clouds
And then hides its face.

First sun, then clouds, then...
Each phase seems everlasting.
Now is forever.

A long, lone snow patch
Lies in the shade of the woods.
It just won't give up.

Clusters of white buds
Bob and weave in the soft breeze.
Now I know it's Spring.

Wire around the tree
Rusty encircling the trunk.
Tree has swallowed it.

Dead bird in forest
Lies stiff and gray on the ground.
Oh! It's just some wood.

Picking up garbage;
The sun is mild today.
There's an old beer can.

Lying on the grass,
Rotting, but not fast enough:
"Waste Management" sign.

The clouds are layered:
Puffy white, thin gray on blue.
Woodpecker rattles.

Robins in the field
Hop quickly in unison;
Don't seem to be worms.

The clouds are shifting;
In the sky there is motion;
Below, all is still.

Within the fenced woods
Some of the trees have red paint.
Marked doomed prisoners.

Even though it's cold
Unseen bird chirps cheerily
And lightens the air.

Three trees guard the woods
With signs that say "No Parking".
(Who parks in the woods?)

There, the stream is still:
No ice, no flow, no burbles.
Yet there are sparkles.

Lone snowflakes scatter;
Clouds and sun compete above--
The first day of Spring.

An insistent wind
Blows steadily and then dies;
A distant crow calls.

It's March twentieth;
Weatherman says Spring is here;
Why is it so cold?

Old filing cabinet
Brown and rusting in the woods.
Does it hold secrets?

Chubby little bird
Hopping quick from branch to branch
Pays me no mind.

Same old road curving;
Same hill twists up the mountain;
A surprise ahead.

Robin on the road
Lies motionless as asleep.
How did it get here?

My mind has wondered;
I conjure many worries.
Sun has come and gone.

Beer cans, plastic wrap,
Cigarette boxes, old bags.
The road, woods, are raped.

White specks float gently;
Gray clouds billow together;
Two days before Spring.

Chimney's lazy smoke
Swirls slowly without the wind,
And then it rises.

A pile of cut wood
Lies awkwardly on the ground;
The owners have left.

The sun is muted;
Soft shadows in the forest;
Poof! It's bright again.

The snow flakes have gone;
Gray has given way to blue.
Sun has won for now.

My four legged friend
Keeps me company today.
She stops at her house.

The wind pushes me;
Pine needles tremble and shake.
Clouds have won again.

First sun and then clouds,
A ping pong game in heaven.
I can only watch.

Rooster crows the sun
Splashed brightly on house and field.
How blue the sky is.

Cold, rough wind explodes
Splashing my face with its ice;
Then it whimpers down.

Black shadows are sharp;
They lie starkly on the ground;
Cold relentless sun.

Ticking woodpecker
Chitters in the ice cold morn.
Just a distant sound.

Sun shines through the woods
Pine needles glow and glimmer;
Dead brown leaves glisten.

Ladder in the woods;
Bright orange on the dead leaves.
Stepping to nowhere.

Lean, brown and shiny
The Schnauzer sits like a statue.
He's had a haircut.

A crisp March morning;
The crows caw above the barn;
Bird sits on a wire.

Smell of burning wood,
Then passing school bus fumes--
Two roadside perfumes.

Two old brown scuffed shoes
Skewed awkwardly near the fence
Waiting for some feet.

An open mail box:
Post man didn't shut its mouth;
Now it stands yawning.

In a frozen hunch
The black dog squeezes a poop
Then trots on its way.

Today's companion:
The black dog travels with me.
We go in silence.

Nose deep in the leaves
The dog studies a new scent
Then pisses again.

It's a moist gray day;
The woods are still and quiet.
Everything's waiting.

Snow on the tree's crotch
Autumn leaves hang from a limb;
Both signs of time passed.

Everything is still:
Brown woods, snow patches, gray sky;
Above--noiseless bird.

Orange cabin light
Gleams down the hill through the woods;
Gray morning beacon.

Fungus on dead tree
Sits high on the branches
Gleaming its whiteness.

A pregnant gray sky;
School bus flashes its red lights;
I feel a rain drop.

Birds twitter in sky
Gray and pregnant with moisture;
A dove coos softly.


A moist blue gray day;
Near the barn a woman rakes;
Birds cry in the sky.

Snow field's disappeared
Leaving a vast brown expanse.
Winter's really gone?

Woodpecker is back
Rat a tatting out of sight.
Unfortunate grubs.

My pen is long gone
Buried by fall and winter.
Still I look for it.

Dog shit in the road;
Beer can lies against oak tree.
Two animal's waste.

A chorus of geese
Fly unseen through the thick clouds;
Only their sounds moves.

Old dog licks himself;
Other one scratches his ear.
Doggie ablutions.

Softball in bushes
Across the road from football.
Two abandoned toys.

It's like a ghost town;
All the houses are quiet
Under the gray sky.

Dead squirrel on the road
Crushed like a flat gray pancake
Squirliness result.

Black wings on brown limbs;
The crow flies to the tree top
Sitting and cawing.

The stream is white now;
Birds flutter from its surface;
Sun does not melt it.

Ivy covered stump;
Tree's dead but ivy's alive.
Two states coexist.

Now all is frozen;
The gray snow slush forms statues.
Even clouds are still.

In poor people's yard
Cardinals flutter in bushes.
Nature knows no class.

Sun strikes the woods;
Shadows leap, fir trees shimmer.
Still the stream's frozen.

From the frozen stream
Tinkling, trickling of water;
Illusion of sound?

White cat in the field
Sits as still as a statue.
Crow jeers from tree top.

Sharp morning shadows
Play with sunlight in the field;
Crisp, icy wind blows.

The stream is ice now,
No trickle just still whiteness;
Cold wind kisses it.

Ice wind in the woods
Murmurs in the bare tree limbs;
Old branch creaks softly.

There's sun but no warmth;
A breeze, but it's icy harsh;
Still, the old dogs bask.

Light lies on the leaves;
Wind whispers in the chilled woods;
A winter stillness.

Now my mind wanders
Conjuring imagined hurts.
Wind blows them away.

It's sure to snow now;
Sky is thick, gray, air is ice;
Birds fly frantically.

Beige lies upon beige:
Schnauzer curls up on the leaves
Huddled against wind.

The stream is halted;
Ice skin covers the water.
There are no trickles.

The darkness bears down;
Icy wind cuts through the trees.
The sky is pregnant.

Pick up truck rattles
Bumping on the old dirt road--
Race to beat the snow.

Car lights shine brightly
Even though it's late morning.
Dark is descending.

Flutter doves to tree
Branch hopping and then stopping;
Looking all around.

Hazy sun morning;
Small birds peck at the feeder;
Frost is on the field.

Birds leap branch to branch
High on the tall leafless tree.
Crow struts in the field.

Football in the yard;
It's laid unused for two days.
Won't someone kick it?

You have to look twice:
A fur clump, a tail and leaves.
The dead raccoon melts.

Leaves in the stream bed;
No sign of water or ice.
Just winter's stillness.

The sweet sense of spring,
Spicy grass, sun and cock's crow
In February.

Everything seems brown:
Trees, leaves and even the stream.
Wait! An evergreen.

Music from the shack
Floats gently onto the road.
Carpenter at work.

The stream bed is dry,
Ice patches recall its past.
When will water flow?

They are bedraggled:
Christmas bells on the mail box.
Why don't they just leave?

My two old friends wait
Huddled on a patch of sun.
Inseparable Labs.

Snow is in the air
But the woods and road are bare.
Wind's whispers foretell.

Today's a beige day;
Brown shades cover everything.
Even green's subdued.

Sparkling on brown leaves
Preternatural green flash:
Mountain Dew bottle.

Same road and same walk,
Same sun, same sky and same trees.
Everything's different.

Porch door is ajar;
Rent sign leans against the fence.
The family is gone.

Blue shines through the trees;
The pond lies beyond the woods.
Now, all is naked.

Warm sun lights the woods
Painting green moss and white ice.
Strange February.

The old sawed tree stump
Hovers, bared roots like spiders.
Menacing in death.

Bristling in the sun
The bare trees enjoy a respite;
Break in the winter.

It is warm today;
The birds chirp at each other;
February's prank.

Hawk against the blue
Circles slow, red tail flashing.
Soon it will plummet.

Signs on many trees:
"Out!" "Private!" "No Trespassing!"
The sun is laughing.

Black dog checks me out;
From behind it sniffs my hand,
Then goes its own way.

"Posted" "Land for Sale".
Where are the developers?
Woods wait for the ax.

Against the blue sky
A cloud cat snarls into space
Slowly dissolving.

"Invisible fence";
Sign is posted on a tree,
An oxymoron.

After the light snow
Snow plow grates on the driveway
Ripping the soft white.

White house and white barn
Stand on unbroken snow field;
Dark windows peep out.

The woods are naked;
Trees reveal all their secrets
Bare against the snow.

Bright light but no warmth;
Sunny promises up ahead.
Just wishful thinking.

The gnarled twisted tree
Still stands upright in the woods
Even thought it's dead.

Shadows of the trees
Fall dark and straight on the snow
And don't make a sound.

Gray snowy morning,
Tiny white specks dot the sky.
My feet crunch the ground.

Sun has retreated;
All light comes from the whiteness:
The road, the roof, birch.

Pale green ribbon flies
Fluttering from the tree branch
Dancing with the snow.

The baby pine tree
Stands frosted at the roadside;
Its snowy milieu.

Snow road is empty;
Tire, footprints, belie life.
Where is everyone?

If you listen close
You can hear snowflakes fall
And whisper "pit pit".

We stop and chatter
Passing on the snowy road.
Then silence resumes.

Tiny specks of snow
Swirl merrily through the air.
Then, only the sun.

Frosted field and woods:
Just the dark snake stream cuts through
Breaking the whiteness.

Bright sun and blue sky;
Forest dances in the light.
Weather man says snow.

Lighter than feather
The snowflakes float to the ground
And then disappear.

Small bird skims the road
Disappearing in its glare
And lights on a bush.

Fat bird on high wire
Sits still and surveys the scene,
Far from any cat.

A sun splashed red barn
With green wreath on a window.
Winter's bright colors.

Pink house is empty;
Ladder lies on the toy car
The children are gone.

Mailbox red flag up
Trash cans neatly side by side.
Still Life is waiting.

A thin skin of ice.
Today the streams are silent.
Deep winter's muffler.

The car rushes past
Stirring up a cloud of dust;
Cold sun's rays stream through.

Shadows everywhere;
Cold winter's sun shines brightly
Brings darkness to light.

The stream in the woods
Sparkling rushes in the sun.
It lightly murmurs.

The rain is over;
Puddles mirror in the field.
The sun claims its own.

A man and two dogs;
He pulls them--they surge forward;
Who is walking whom?

A still pile of fur;
Raccoon still sleeps by the snow.
Its soul has long gone.

The snow is filthy;
Its whiteness tempered by dirt.
Elements battle.

The wind or a stream?
There's a rushing in the woods.
Air mimics water.

The black dog sees me;
He stops, pees, and turns around
His tail like a sail.

Yerry Hill Road Haiku

The light is subdued;
Puddles of ice and scattered snow.
Winter interlude.

There's a hushed stillness;
Then rooster crows and bird chirps;
Then stillness again.

The orange swing hangs
Its green guard loosely open
Waiting for a child.

Brown beer bottle lies
Cushioned by the pine needles;
Hospitable woods.

Haiku up the hill:
Labored words are puffing, then
Poof! I'm at the top.

Light flashes on rock
Sparking a liquid blink.
Swiftly rushing stream.

Sun shines through the mist;
Behind the trees are ghost trees.
A winter's softness.

A mist touches the field;
Pine trees covered with softness.
A bird sings lightly.

Stuck in a snow bank
A child's pink automobile.
Who will pull it out?

Many "Posted" signs
Hammered hard on many trees.
The wire fence makes sure.

Soup box on the road
Lies crushed from many car wheels.
Where are the tasters?

They bow in the sun
The pine trees of the forest
Dripping sparkling light.

Sun cuts through the mist
Making shadows and light beams.
Illumination.

Squirrel leaps across road,
Then bounds into the forest;
And twitches its tail.

A gray green morning;
Birds chirp subdued out of sight.
Whiff of chimney smoke.

From the snow--grass tufts;
The stream is completely still;
A pause in winter.

Shimmer in my eye;
A small bird lands on a branch.
Breath of silence.

Geese honk high above
Breaking the morning stillness
And splitting the sky.

The pale white birch tree
Seems to grow out of the snow.
Its winter costume.

The sun is pleasant;
Blue sky, white snow and warm breeze.
What a nice surprise!

The stream is quiet
Trickling through the snow banks.
Lazy winter morn.

In the snowy woods
The deep echo of the wind.
On the road--silence.

The old black plow stands
Snow covered and next to the barn.
Will it work again?

Brown leaves green needles;
The old branch leans on the pine.
Past with forever.

How blue the sky is;
How white the blanket of snow;
How green the pine trees.

Brown on brown on brown:
Shopping bag lies in the woods.
Perfect camouflage.

They are glistening:
The wires of the fenced in woods.
The sun trespasses.


A sun drenched snow field;
Shadows fall on the cold white.
Dogs bark all around.

Shadow on the road:
It stands as still as I stand.
Just who could it be?

The old holy tree;
It does not know that it is dead.
The woodpeckers do.

Broken ornaments
Lie snowbound near the mailbox.
Past Christmas message.

High on the snow bank
Old black dog sits in the sun.
Is it warm enough?

Frosted white grasses
Stand up from the white snow field.
A winter garden.

A gray and blue sky;
Hollow wind across the white.
A winter's palette.

White flakes fill the sky;
They fall in persistent lines
And don't make a sound.

The white flakes subside;
Cat huddles near the window
Hoping for some house warmth.

Rock ledge in the woods
Sits high on the snowy hill;
Behind it--the sky.

A brown leaf falls
From a snapping snowy limb.
Survivor of Fall.

Wires cut the sky
And intersect with others.
Electric heaven.

It's winter again;
The snow layers the landscape
Falling still whiteness.

Footprints and dog prints
The snow tells a history
And lets it vanish.

Silently they float--
Countless million snow flakes.
Silently they land.

I walk on whiteness;
Around me all is silent.
Am I in a dream?

The snow plow rumbles,
Churning away the white snow
And leaves a gas fart.

How balmy it is;
Sheets of ice are melting.
Strange January.

The stream is lazy;
It whispers in the warm sun.
The ice is all gone.

Tweety, tweety, tweet--
The bird thinks Spring is here.
Much winter remains.

Woods are still today;
Snow patches belie the sun.
What season is this?

Somewhere there's a stream;
It whispers from the deep woods.
I cannot see it.

Brown on brown on brown:
Shopping bag lies in the woods.
Perfect camouflage.

Crow caws in the sky;
A heating truck whooshes by.
The stench of cities.

Translucent in sun
Thick icicle keeps its shape.
Meeting of seasons.

The rain is all gone;
White and blue are the colors.
It's winter again.

Above the swift stream
A crystal icicle hangs
Touching the water.

First the trees hum loud;
Then wind bursts across the road
Swiftly disappears.

The bushes flutter;
Small birds dance in the branches;
The cold wind whispers.

The trees are so still;
All is quiet but the wind
And the tinkling stream.

Sun/ice all around
The flood rains have subsided
Leaving the winter.

Rains have swept the snow
Engorged streams flow endlessly;
Always the water.

On the left snow banks;
On the right the murmuring stream.
Ahead is the sun.

The ancient tree limb
Still attached propped up and sawed
Refuses to die.

Black cat on a rock
Catches rays of winter sun
Sits still as a stone.

Illuminated
Baby pine glows in the sun:
Glowing green needles.

Pine against the sky
Green on blue and gray on white,
A winter palette.

Nest high in the tree;
Now exposed for all to see.
The birds are long gone.

Faded pink toy car
Left and now covered with snow.
The child is gone too.

Woods are soft today
Water glistens on the ice;
Sun sprinkles the snow.

The two doggy friends
Sniff happily on the road;
Then stop and watch me.

Sun blasts through the trees;
Shadows spring up on the road.
The gray snow turns white.

Shadows on the snow;
White plane streaks in the blue sky;
A dappled morning.

Gray mist descending
Even the snow is off white.
Wetness in the wind.

Are the trees praying?
They lift their stark bare branches
Appealing to the sky.

Power lines/tree limbs
Make cross hatches in the air.
The gray world stands still.

Snow on the tree's crotch
Sits on a patch of green moss;
A high winter throne.

Brown leaves still hanging;
But the woods are full of snow.
Echo or portent?

Brown patches on white;
Dead leaves and earth peek through snow.
January thaw.

High in the bare tree
A lone leaf against the sky
Challenges the wind.

12/25/2005
Glistening road unfurls;
Mist shrouds the trees and snow.
Rainy soft Christmas.

01/06/2006
I smell the white snow;
Two red barns color the road.
Gray clouds float above.

A solid blank field;
The dark stream cuts through the white ;
Unseen plane above.

Grayness on whiteness;
The clouds touch the fields of snow.
Am I in a dream?

Still fork in the road
Nothing's moving either way.
Only my boots sound.

Against the gray slush
A Coke can leans and glistens.
A trashed ornament.

A web of branches:
Tree limbs in the snowy woods.
The gray sky peeps through.

Dog barks far away
Crow caws beyond the clouds.
Unseen serenade.