Mirrors in Whiteness

Tufts of brown grass
Pop up from the white snow field;
Light plays on the road.








Near the broken barn
Bundles of old clothes is waiting;
Early spring cleaning.










Mirrors in whiteness--
Dark patches of melting snow;
Puddles in the woods.










Quickly she passed,
Disappearing down the road
Like a morning ghost.











Car passes slowly;
Doctor looks at me strangely:
"What is he writing?"

A strange pile of rocks
Clustered tightly on the hill
As if by design.

Jogger round the bend
Youthful with vitality;
Then she disappears.












Huffing and puffing
Fat oil truck climbs the steep hill
With ancient stored heat.

The Play of Winter Sunlight

Now the snow crunches;
A schoolbus rounds the corner--
Normal winter day.

Shadows on the road:
Black, sharp pointed and jagged,
From the white snow bank.












Dark shadows, white snow--
The play of winter sunlight
On a frozen morn.









The fence is open--
It has welcomed the snow bank
Pushing to get in.

Snow plow attempted
But it could not cover up
The silly smug sign.









Yellow snow patches
Next to an empty parking space:
Dogs gone for a ride?









A blast of sunshine
Washes up the mountain road
But it melts nothing.

Raised ridged waffled shapes;
Soft chain links and turkey trails:
Tire tracks in the snow.

Touch of Winter's Grace

Universe is white;
Small flakes fall in the silence;
The winter solstice.

Another walker;
We stop and chat for a time
Alone in white world.

In a world of white
Darkness defines boundaries;
The stream still courses.

Footsteps are hushed;
The snow blankets all sound;
Even cars whisper.

With elegant bows
Two young pines trees wait to dance
In their new white dress.













With snow tipped fingers
Sumacs pluck at the phone wire;
Hush. You can hear them.

There's no more garbage;
Snow has buried the litter--
Touch of winter's grace.

Stopping to listen:
Only a faint snow clump whoosh
Falling from a tree.

Far in the distance
Someone is walking their dog;
(Or is it a ghost?)











Soft white chimeras
Puff out from their mother trees
And then disappear.

It Keeps on Falling

Bowing heavily,
Branches are laden with snow.
It keeps on falling.









Just where is that train
That rumbles so far away
And does not see me?












Specks against the snow
The woman walks her old dog;
Hens are cackling.

Twisted frosted white snakes
Snow covered brambles entwine.
Distant train whistle.












Feet, birds, tires and dogs--
Now the world is made of tracks
Soon covered by snow.












Laden thick with snow
The evergreen seems enormous--
Majestic moment.

The familiar bend
Painted white with tiny specks
Gathering always.









Two new ornaments
Deck the familiar mailbox:
New light at solstice.

Waiting For the Storm

Darkness in morning;
A lone goose calls in the sky;
The world waits for snow.












He worked until night
Chopping up the fire wood,
Waiting for the storm.

The stream moves softly,
Sliding under the dark sky;
Even cars are hushed.













Skeletal branches
Framed against the darkened sky--
Frozen silhouettes.









Now there is silence;
I hear only my footsteps,
Then a distant plane.









The grizzled old dog,
Free from incarceration
Barks as usual.

Sticking from a tree:
Perfect frosted letter "P"--
Nature's alphabet.

Leaping over road,
Extending from the tall tree--
Skeletal reindeer.

A few tiny flakes
Seem almost an illusion;
There will be others.

The goat is bleating;
The air is filled with white specks;
Snow storm has begun.

Frozen tracks in snow;
One coming and one going.
Distant child's high laugh.












Hoarsely rooster cries,
Repeats again and again;
Nothing answers him.

The man and his dogs:
Two retrievers sniff the snow;
All the scents are cold.









Brown sprouts in the woods
Push up through the thick white snow--
Growing or dying?

Frail the young fir tree
Tentatively in the snow,
Did not choose its birth.

Here the phone wires turn
Through the trees, down the valley--
Soundless voice highway.












Dog barks far away:
High pitched insistent yips
Signifies something.

Behind the bushes
Mute fierce snow stump monster stands
With his mouth open.

Light in morning gloom
Leans tipsy in the grayness
Glowing all the same.

Trees Frosted With White

Trees frosted with white;
Gray mushy snow on the road;
Billows of wood smoke.












Now the pen is white;
Goats have gone to a warm barn;
Only snow is fenced.








Islands on the stream
Are frosted with the wet snow.
Water still rushes.

Crystal water beads
Hang on the slender branches,
But they do not drop.

The woods are transformed--
Dry brown old blanket has gone
Under new white one.

Small wet clumps of snow
Fall from the frosted tree limbs:
Thwump! To the ground. Thwump!

In abandoned house
Jar statues stare at the trees.
Silent as the snow.

The white pristine road
Winds trackless into the woods;
No mark, no people.