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.