Lump on a tree limb:
Fat bird sits on a bare limb
Then flutters away.

Sun filters through clouds,
Soft shadows fall on the road;
Distant furnace hums.

A cluster of trees,
One with moss, one with lichen
Unlike each other.

Riot of yellow--
Forsythia trumpets spring;
Birds soars out of bush.

Dark field guardians
Sit like statues on the grass.
When I stop, they growl.

Broken rotten stump
Covered with moss and lichen;
Now green rules the day.

Stone wall far below
Divides long forgotten claims,
Wanders aimlessly.

A fright of yellow
Standing spiky and alarmed--
Forsythia's here!