Hugging Their Darkness

Shadows are frozen,
Unmoving shapes in the snow
Teased by the cold sun.










Crying to greet me
Crow screams as I leave my door;
Then he leaves, too.

It's too cold to bark;
All dogs are inside houses--
Better things to do.

Party was here last June;
Old balloons still hang on pole.
They can hope, can't they?

Blue wrapped newspapers
Lie waiting on iced driveways
Too cold to be read.

Beyond the sunshine
The woods seem colder,
Hugging their darkness.

As still as snowfall,
Cold light falls upon the road.
Plane breaks the silence.












Roadside stream is ice,
Its tributaries frozen.
Not a sound from it.









Like a stone igloo
Snow covered rock stands in woods.
No one is inside.

They Will Haunt the Spring

Wind chill minus two;
The sun looks bright and cheery.
Walk? Am I crazy?

It's Yerry Hill Road;
The sign tells me that it is.
(I don't believe it.)












Snow covered fire wood
Doesn't show the heat it gives;
Sitting neatly stacked.


Blinding sun and ice--
The distant sound of rippling:
The freezing stream flows.







Concentric circles
Forming neatly in the snow
Document the past.












Pine cone and needles
Lie together on the road
:Like they belong there.

Dead trees along road
Standing like stiff sentinels
At strict attention.









They are still hanging:
Ephemeral ghost seed puffs.
They will haunt the Spring.

Footprints in the Sky

A glass hummingbird
Floats above the kitchen sink;
Outside: frozen sun.

The deceptive sun
Lights up trees, field and road,
But provides no heat.

Wind across the field
Picks up swirling clouds of snow;
Throws them to the sun.










Shadows on the snow
Are as sharp as it is cold;
Frigid wind murmurs.










Still there are warm spots,
Places where earth does not freeze;
Where water is clear.












Without my gloves on
My fingers become frozen
In thirty seconds.


It's twelve degrees now;
I keep my pen in my glove
So it doesn't freeze.

In sun snow sculpture
Even garbage looks like art;
(Until the next thaw).

Footprints in the sky;
I swiftly run up the road
To see where they lead.

The Snow Keeps Falling

Outside my window
A billion falling snow flakes.
Inside, my cat drinks.

It is its silence
That gives snow its mystery--
Not a single sound.

Evergreens grow white;
The dark roadway disappears,
Painted by the snow.

The cars are hushed now,
Moving slow, with dignity
Along the white road.













Forsythia buds
Look as though they will bloom white;
A false pregnancy.

It's not only sound
That the falling flakes obscure.
It's the universe.










Now the wind has changed--
Opposite from where it was.
The snow keeps falling.

The road is empty
Save for my crunching boots
And the falling snow.












Three sets of footprints
Ahead of me in the snow.
I'll never catch up.

Ferns Sprout from Its Head

Bright stripes on the snow;
Trees slowly begin to glow
In the morning sun.

Hanging from the tree
A delicate rope ladder
For children long gone.












Ice and water swirls
Under the bright morning sun--
Mix of light and cold.












The bright white birch tree
On fire in the rising sun
Burns so cold and pale.












Does moss ever die?
Under snow it flourishes,
So green and so soft.








In a snow cocoon
The dead log likes in the woods;
Ferns sprout from its head.

The ancient murrain
Sitting on top of the hill
Will outlast us all.

Grizzly stone monster
Wearing its winter whiskers
Stares out at the road.

Talking to myself,
Mirrored stream distracted me;
Lost my train of thought.

A Ribbon of Light

Everything seems blue:
Snow, road, and the morning sky;
Everything, but me.

Thick manure smell
Comes from the open barn doors,
Warm and welcoming.

A thin skin of ice
Covers water on the road.
Best walk carefully.








Stubborn little tufts
Sticking up from the snow
Own their own space.

The stream is swollen
Creating an instant lake.
White clouds are pink tinged.

Tiny waterfall
Cascading by the roadside
Makes a mini-roar.

Ice meets the water:
A dark shiny no man's land
At edge of the road.












A ribbon of light
Floats on top of the water
Flowing near the road.

Three crows on the road;
One takes off with a loud cry,
The others follow.

It's Just a Promise

It's raining today;
Water streams down the window.
(Don't know what to wear).

Not a patch of sun;
Mist clouds roll across the road
Dotting the snow fields.









Cars rush swiftly by
Like they're afraid of the rain.
(Just a silly thought).

The stream is roaring;
No longer tranquil and iced
It plunges forward.










Through the misty rain
Two car lights slowly approach,
Swishing, splashing past.










On the dim wet porch
Broken chair and crutches lie,
Forlorn in the gloom.

Pebbles on my head--
Small drops fall on my rain hat;
Jeans wet and heavy.

Woods grow bare again;
White vanishing into brown.
Drops fall from the eaves.

It won't last long,
This liquid bursting of Spring.
It's just a promise.

Racing near the road
The stream picks up momentum
On it's downward plunge.

Penetrated by Crows' Cries

Plastic red lawn chair
Sitting in the porch corner;
Snow patch on its seat.

Sky is one big cloud;
Blue gray thick and lowering;
Penetrated by crows' cries.

A cloud of small birds
Lifts silently from the snow;
Floats into the woods.












Faded wooden sign
Now unintelligible
Reclaimed by the tree.

The old dry brown blossoms
Hang like always on the tree;
Don't want to let go.

They've been everywhere:
The cutters of the tree limbs,
Slashing and hacking.














White and serpentine
Birch tree twists above the fir--
A snake in the woods.

The magical squirrel
Leaps on the nearby tree trunk
And Poof! Disappears.