A Net of Leaf Shadows

It's one day from May;
The sky is blue as glass.
(Guilty Basset's loose).








Birds call and sun shines;
Stream rushes under blue sky.
Still, I wear my gloves.

Small orange monster
Faces me behind the fence.
Good thing he's in jail.

Almost out of sight
Small blue flowers dot the woods.
Are they illusions?









Spreading dark and blurred
A net of leaf shadows falls
Catching the road's light.

Small patches of light
Mark the path into the woods.
(There's no path at night).

Already they're puffs,
These April dandelions.
Did they ever bloom?









Lying on the leaves,
Red and white and bluminum.
"Where there's Bud, there's trash."

Such a Slender Branch

Forsythia glows
In the early morning light.
The world is yellow.

Sounds come from afar:
Barking dogs and chirping birds;
Yet, road is empty.









Lone dandelion
Overlooks the quiet stream
One dark, other bright.

Robin in the grass
Surveying the green landscape,
Still as a statue.

At the branch's tip
White flowers burst into bloom.
Such a slender branch.









Sitting by the road
The old black dog guards the Spring.
(Doing a good job).









Waiting for the sun
Little flowers bow their heads--
Silence reverence.

Dead leaf still holds on;
White and yellow flowers bloom;
Different rates of change.

Criss Crossing Shadows

Cow moos in the door;
Kid tries to hump his sister--
Morning in barnyard.

Basset in the yard
Thinking hard about something;
Thoughts don't come easy.









Smell of burning wood
Seems out of place this morning;
My stomach flip flops.

Geared up like space men
With coarse roaring instruments
They work on the lawn.








Criss crossing shadows
Curve with the bend in the road;
Cloudless sky is blue.

Wild daffodils
Grow in cluster near the marsh.
There's strength in numbers.

Hopping near the bush
The robin catches my eye
Like a rippling breeze.












Still in the tree's crotch
Phone book survives one more year
Numbers extinguished.

They're No Longer Buds

Forsythia now;
Petals strewn about the walk.
Bugs tickle my eyes.












They're no longer buds;
They are bursting baby leaves
Urged on by the sun.









Shadows, like the sun,
Fall gently on the soft lawns,
Make not a ripple.

The streams are muted;
Lone clover pops up its head.
Spring comes with hushed sounds.









Christmas ornament
Shining in the April sun.
(Some things never change).










White flowers blooming
From a broken dying tree
Lie close to the ground.

A distant jet hums
Fading swiftly out of sound.
U P S puffs by.









From the dead brown leaves
Bright purple flowers pop up.
From the house, kids drum.

Buds, Buds Everywhere

Mama cow licks calf--
"Get it over with quick, Mom."
Patience yet to come.

Basset hound howling
Raises his shouts to the sky,
The still, clear, blue sky.

The shy woodpecker
Sits silently on the trunk
Then whispers away.









Buds, buds everywhere
Green and yellow and swelling;
Licked by the sunshine.









Very last snow bank
Stands next to the fenced in woods,
Mottled gray and filthy.









Hollow knock, knock, knock
Followed by gentle cooing;
Sounds of the forest.

Pale soft mullein leaves
Emerge as if from nowhere;
Were they under snow?

The stark white birch tree
Yet whiter in the bright sun,
Almost as blinding.

Now They Are Swelling

Dim, gray, cool morning;
Birds call and mist sweeps my face;
Woodpecker thrumming.

Woodpeckers' hammers
Echoes from both sides of the road.
Natives are restless.







Now they are swelling:
Yellow buds on brown branches.
Still the swing is empty.

Now the mist turns rain;
Soft patters fall on my hat--
The opening sky.

Drops fall on the pond
Pocking its glassy surface;
Calf runs with pleasure.

Kids Gallop; Kids Sing

New born kids gallop;
Calf was born three days ago.
Sunlight on moist road.









Birds are all around,
Their chirping floats in the air.
Branches have voices.

The opening buds
Spread their tiny leaves and wait;
Girl sings on the path.











A lone mound of snow
Doesn't know that it's spring time;
The sun will tell it.

Old rusty barbed wire
Tries to strangle the tree trunks.
They grow around it.









Pine is in the air
Mixing with moist forest smell;
Spring witch's brew.

A green neon light:
Lichen glowing on the tree
Absorbs the sunlight.












Clouds cover the sun
Then pass on letting it shine
Reflecting my moods.

Red eft and pink worm;
Pale cardinal in the bushes;
Green moss on the trees.

Many Shades of Green

A gray moist morning;
Bird sounds from unseen places;
Barn door hangs open.








Drops hang off branches;
Squirrel rushes across the road;
Distant rooster crows.

Neither day nor night;
Muted light and bird calls--
I walk in a dream.









The soggy forest
Soaks up the winter's melting;
Many shades of green.











Near the last snow bank
Vibrant clusters of bright green
Born under the ice.

The same old tree stump
Covered with layer of moss;
Preening or greening?

On tiny tree stump
A little lichen cap sits;
Just a spring bonnet.












Near imprisoned woods
A strange road sign is standing
Silly as the fence.

Softly spreading green,
Moss covers rocks and tree stumps--
Forests in forests.