A Mysterious Portal

Every summer for the past twenty-three summers I have left the mountains of Woodstock and my beloved Yerry Hill Road to travel two hundred miles south to Elmer, New Jersey and Appel Farm Arts Camp where I am the head counselor and one of five theater directors. I do it again and leave Yerry Hill Road Haiku until late August. Hopefully, I will make entries in my blog, Haiku to You Too (http://haikutoyouto.blogspot.com/) although life at camp is rather consuming. To all who read this, have a wonderful summer.

Bird squeaks in a bush;
Car hums to stop at sign;
Plane, oh so far up.

Cow in the front yard
Busily munches the grass;
Beats mowing the lawn.









Above the swift stream
Clusters of white flowers hang
To look in mirror.

They are not modest
These daisies by the roadside
Thrusting faces out.


Deep in the forest
Discarded furniture sits--
Ghostly tea party.












Shadows on the leaves
Assume their own leaf like shapes
Deceiving the eye.

Old wood cellar door--
A mysterious portal,
Opens to darkness.

Puffs float through the air
As white and light as snow flakes
Carrying their seeds.

Squandering Shadows

Everything's glistening;
The banister and the road.
Radio in barn.

Relaxed in shadows
The gray and white cat sits still.
Nobody disturbs it.






Drops fall on water,
Shining and rippling--
Rain pond by the road.









Little white fingers
Reaching up from the flat leaves
Shake hands with the sun.

Thick gray clouds move in;
Woods become dark and muted;
World is all moisture.

Latched onto the tree
New brown fungus has sprouted
In a day's twinkling.

Bell shaped and puckered
Small flowers wait for a kiss
Or a pop from a child.

As fast as it left
Warm sun returns to the road
Squandering shadows.

Like a Falling Leaf

Near my porch lattice
Bright buttercups have sprung up.
Who invited them?






Mabel sleeps in the sun
Kids hunting wild strawberries;
Daisies raise their heads.











Small kids chattering;
Excitement is contagious;
Cause doesn't matter.












Like a falling leaf
Brown butterfly lights on grass
And melts into it.

Bulky, gray and old
Mailbox sits propped on a pole;
(It cannot stay there).

Wherever you look
There are stands of purple phlox;
Nobody planted them.












Peeking from the tree
White blooms wrap around branches--
Mutual support.

Coming from the woods
A soft hollow echoing--
A breeze or a stream.

Voices in the breeze
Fade swiftly in the dim air.
Plane buzzes above.









Daisies near the pond;
Robin sits on a fence pole;
Dogs howl far away.

Under the green leaves
The sound of running water;
It's the hidden stream.

Peeking from the tree
A bushy cluster of ferns
Taking shelter there.

Grayness and sunshine
Follow each other smoothly;
Ever shifting moods.












Belle loves to play fetch
But never gives the stick back.
(She has her own rules).

A car rushed towards me
Swerving at the last second.
Random violent act?









Sparkling soft and white;
Perched gently between the leaves.
Is it fairy spit?

Kids' shouts through the trees;
Little girl on tricycle
Screams down the driveway.

The sun is muted
As soft clouds blanket the sky.
White daisies tremble.

White and violet,
Hidden in a cloak of green--
Early June palette.








Orange poppies grow
Vibrant and luxuriant
Watched by a stone saint.












The sun dappled woods
Seem to extend forever
On patches of light.















Freed of its litter
The hollow welcomes shadows
And patterns of light.









The fierce monster stump
Softened by pale green leaves--
Translucent nimbus.

Whirring into shadows
Bicyclist glides down the hill
Swiftly vanishing.

A Time of Two Worlds

Late afternoon sun
Lays soft shadows all about.
Whisper of evening.









In the softening light
White seed puffs become reborn
At the sun's pleasure.












Now the stream is dark;
Its whispers mysterious;
Evening grows cool.

Patches of sunshine
Light up the darkening woods.
Insistent chain saw.

Standing at the bend
Lit up in a patch of light
Woman and a dog.












Darkness descending--
Road is the first to grow dim;
Tree tops still catch sun.

For a brief instant
A fleeting shadow shocks me;
I see it is mine.












Woods are growing dark;
Still sun refuses to leave--
A time of two worlds.

Always More Shadows

Crisp sun, sharp shadows;
Buttercups gleam in the light.
Cool breeze waves the grass.

Munching on the lawn
She is beyond contentment.
There's grass to be chewed.

Just around the bend
There are surely more shadows;
Always more shadows.












Me and the shadows
Placed side by side on the road.
(I have the camera).


The plane is so high
You just can hear its rumble.
Bird lands like a leaf.










Blooming in the shade--
The delicate white flowers
Get what sun they can.












Late bloom daffodils
Wave in the breezes of June;
Know no calendar.

Woodpecker and plane
Filling the air with their sounds
Don't hear each other.