Smell of burning wood;
Prickly trees reach for the sky;
Hens peck in the sun.

Smooth faced brown tree stump
Admits its age at its death--
Subtle monument.

Swing hangs in the sun
Football lies at the yard's end.
Where are the playmates?

Overturned tree trunk--
Vibrant moss covers its base.
Winter life goes on.

Beat up car zooms by,
Fills the air with gassy fumes
Which evaporate.

She shuffles past me
Cresting the long steep incline;
Each has our journey.

A lone mullein stalk
Shivers gently in the wind;
Guns boom in the woods.

The old rotten stump
Hugs the tall tree next to it.
Can it borrow life?