A lone milkweed stalk
Shakes stiffly in the cold wind.
Geese honk overhead.












Forsythia bush
Now brown bramble of branches;
Look! A million buds.








Flat sun on water:
The stream bubbles on its way
Propelled by the wind.

Shadows even now
With sky a slab of gray slate;
Sun is struggling.

Caught in the tree's crotch
Pine needles come to a rest
Waiting for the snow.

They hang, lean and lie--
Dead branches are all around;
Give birth to the earth.

A pale ghostly green
Creeps up the tree from the moss
To haunt winter's snow.








Mullein is unfazed;
Promises healing good will;
Leaves soft as lamb's wool.

Light falls on the field
Making the black dog blacker.
He just doesn't care.

My dog friend joins me
Bandanna around his neck;
Roadside pioneer.

Birds cry, swoop and soar
Playing in the morning sun.
Lifting spirits high.

Shadows are stark now;
Bare branches lie on the ground
Near their dark phantoms.








Shadow dwarfs the tree
Extending into the woods
Growing with the sun.

Standing like statues
Two deer watch closely on the hill
Then clatter away.

Brazen the deer stands
Stock still and ten feet away;
Then melts into flight.








Berries light the tree,
Bright red on Autumn's hushed tones--
Reminder of life.

Delicate ice leaf
Hangs over the rushing stream:
Motion and stillness.

Squirrels are scurrying
The morning is dark and gray;
Moisture everywhere.

The road is silent;
There's no movement in the sky.
Creatures are waiting.

Stream breaks the silence;
Rushing through the hushed woods.
An animal howls.

Nestled in dead tree
Small white patches linger on.
Their day will come.













There's no wind blowing,
Even the dead leaves don't drop;
Plop! There's always one.

Two stumps discussing
What to do about beer can:
"It simply won't rot."

Rain descends softly
First filling the trees with mist
Then tapping my face.

Hammer hollowly
Echoes through the still woods,
Accents the silence.

Dark sky silhouettes.
Lines and clusters intersect
Many dimensions

Snow is in the air;
Leaden sky heavy and gray;
Men loudly move wood.

Party was in June;
It's the end of November.
The balloons don't know.

Twisted branches rule;
There are no leaves to hide them.
A squirrel leaps freely.

On the dead tree's base
Fern leaves sprout and moss covers:
Fall resurrection.



Tree monster's caught prey
Nestled in its wooden jaws--
Too hard to gobble.

Pine grows from tree stump
As green as the stump is brown--
Color alchemy.

Sumac skeletons
Hang starkly against the sky
Their sour fruit gone.

Drowning in the leaves
Dark beer bottle is covered
By soft waves of brown.

Gaunt against the sky
The trees are completely bare;
Reaching to the clouds.

Coming from two sides
The streams meet in the middle.
Where will they go now?








Loud chain saw buzzes,
The rest of the woods are still;
Are they listening?

Woods are naked now,
Clothing scattered on the ground.
A gun shot rings out.

Sun does not bring warmth;
Just sharp shadows on the road--
Clarity of sight.

Deer hunters are out;
"God bless America" cars
Parked at the wood's edge.

White as winter snow
Seed puffs bobbing in the wind
Wait for their release.




Stream flows through sunlight
Catching and tumbling it:
Mixture of liquids.

A chilly gray wind
Sweeps across the sleep land;
A far deer grazes.

Two crows in the field
Stand solitary and still,
Then flop up and up.

Stream ripples onward
Swollen by yesterday's rain,
Rushing against time.

Hiding in the brush
The forgotten football lies
Now falling apart.

Suddenly there's no wind;
Dead leaves lie still on the road,
Then trees start to shake.

The moss green tree stump
Stands in the midst of dead leaves,
A sign post of life.




An orange beacon
Stands at the bend of the road;
One last burst of light.

Dead leaves clog the stream;
Still the water trickles through--
A matter of time.

Blue gray November;
The sky is a solid cloud
Shifted by the wind.

Invisible birds
Call across the trees and clouds
Speak in many tongues.

Somewhere in the woods
A hammer tap taps
Stating its mission..

A glowing post light
Does not know it's day time--
Tries to light the way.

Now the woods are brown;
Dead leaves form a thick blanket
On the naked earth.








In the midst of brown
Red berries shine on the bush;
One winter color.

Lone Catalpa leaf
Snagged on a slender bush branch
Just waiting to drop.








Milkweed is gone now;
Empty husk offers two seeds;
Hurry now! Quickly!

Leaves fly through the sky
Pursued by the cries of crows
Tumble to the ground.

Sun seeps through the trees
Glowing them red and yellow;
Splashing on the field.

Yellow leaves shimmer
Catching the setting sun's light
In a gust of wind.

Patch of soft sun
Falls between the forest trees
Lights upon the ground.












Glowing near the road
Two trees dance in the sunset
Their leaves translucent.

Shadows fall softly
On the sunset dappled woods;
Then a burst of wind.

Grizzled guardian
Stands watching in the forest;
Doesn't wag his tail.







The sun slips away
Letting the darkness creep in
To gobble the light.

Delicate fingers
Stretch out to receive the sky
Or wait for a cloud.

Beer can in the bushes
Captured by the slim branches
Has no place to roll.

The crunch of brown leaves;
Beige light falls under my feet.
Crisp November morn.

Brown pile grows larger;
Small hands flail the rakes around.
Tiny fall wonders.







The tree is bare now;
Hidden bird nest is exposed--
Autumn nudity.










Fence posts on the road;
Shadows fall upon shadows
Smoothing pine needles.

A lone green sapling
Stands in a forest of brown:
Springtime in the fall.

Splashing in the pond;
A light fluttering of wings;
Water birds resting.

One last yellow leaf
Clings stubbornly to the branch
Waiting for its turn.

Grayish wispy spheres
Float softly on their branches
With wordless whispers.

Tiny red berries
Hang like tear drops from the branch
Whispering "winter".

Swaying in the wind
Milkweed pod bursting with seeds
Constantly gives birth.