A White Screen Descends

The trees are obscured
By thick falling clouds of snow;
A white screen descends.







What simple magic:
A touch of frosting can be;
And the world's a cake.

Chickens love the snow;
They cackle in their warm place.
Who would not chuckle?

Sleet, nor rain, nor snow
Can keep a dog from peeing.
Some things never change.










Bella loves the snow;
Maybe it's the black and white,
A playful contrast.










Stump buddies turn old
With appearance of white bears.
New sagacity.

Bowing white silence:
Fir trees seem to weep snow tears
In blanketed woods.









Through the rusty box
Slashes of windows appear
With whiteness beyond.

Through the falling flakes,
Sound of a faraway train
Passing to silence.

Painting the far hill
The sun rises so slowly
But brings little warmth.

A thin ray of light
Slices up Yerry Hill Road
Crossing Ohayo.









In the morning sun
A stand of weeds in the snow
Glows like golden wheat.

Birds are chattering;
Shadows on gingerbread house;
School bus chugging past.

Hollow woodpecking
Thrums against a cawing crow;
Soft coo of a dove.

Behind me the sunrise;
Ahead of me the twisting bends.
I'm in the middle.








A hopping scurry;
An ear, tail, l behind a bush;
A rabbit statue.











They still burst with seeds,
These glowing pods from last Fall;
Just a while longer.

Speaking Unknown Words

Snow is flat today,
Still shadows lay across it.
The road is quiet.

A strong hint of Spring
Soars on the wings of the crow,
Bringing sweet sadness.









Pond is still frozen;
No birds ever land on it
Even in summer.

When sun strikes just right
Frozen snow chunk is transformed
To sparkling crystal.

How does it happen
That bright spot on the tree?
One time sun focus.

As the snow recedes
Nest of dead leaves in tree trunk
Revealed as a gift.









On the dead leafed hill
Sedimentary rocks protrude:
Mute ancient voices.












From inside the house,
Muffled voice of a small child
Speaking unknown words.


White leviathan
Sails above the telephone wires
In the form of a cloud.

Relaxed in Decline

It must be Spring now;
I can take out my Nikon;
Icicles drip, drip.

A piece of flotsam
Separated from its source,
Tossed upon the road.










Trees seem very still;
Clouds moving slowly above
In a pale blue sky.












Small grove of dead limbs,
Lying scattered on the ground
Relaxed in decline.









Small rock on a rock--
A piece of abstract sculpture
Avoided by snow.









Flat boulders in woods
Rise above surroundings.
How did they get there?










Pine cone in the bush;
Another one on the ground.
Pine cones get around.











Brown and spider like
Thin stalks rise from the snow.
Just delicate husks.

Long Winters Ago

I go for my walk;
Stella is in the same place
Each time I return.










A soft cold wind blows;
I think of walking to school
Long winters ago.

Laurie's stone pillars
Guard the long road to her house
Past the now mute barn.

Jogger far ahead
Disappears around the bend--
A dark illusion.









The first flakes of snow
Whip from the overcast sky
And land on my coat.

A few errant flakes
Under a darkening sky
Portend the future.

A clump of dead leaves
Sways gently in the tree top
As the rough wind blows.










The two horned tree stump
Sits in the woods like a cat
Waiting for a wood mouse.









Two small oases:
Fir trees protection
Bare ground in the snow.

They Speak in Emergencies

How loud the birds cry;
They speak in emergencies
As the cars rush by.











Trembling in the wind--
Thin seed pods against the tree,
Holding out 'til when?

Back on his tree top
The silhouetted old crow
Surveys his kingdom.

In Spring they are swamped
By a myriad of blooms;
Now they rule the snow.












Shadows side by side--
My own and the two tall trees
Suddenly are gone.















Sun and clouds play tag;
The shadows are dark and bright;
Then they slip away.

Sudden gust of wind
Blows mists of snow from the tree
Lit up by the sun.

A giant black bird
Lifts slowly over the road
Flapping his large wings.

Beats of Light and Sound

Snow patch on the road
Disappears before my eyes,
Then, poof, reappears.

Hooting of a dove
Marks time with the breaking sun:
Beats of light and sound.

Bushes are alive
With chattering tiny birds
Hiding and building.












Prakash walks swiftly
Like he has some place to go,
As the cars rush by.

Even dead brown leaves
Are rendered interesting
With a touch of snow.

The driveways are plowed--
Humans have regained the edge
(For the time being).










Tree says "No Hunting"
But it barely holds the sign
Between its dead limbs.

Footprints are mushy;
The road surface is shiny--
Temporary thaw.

Billions of Them Floating Down

Thick snow flakes falling
Outside my kitchen window
Make no sound at all.

Forsythia bush
Bears only white flowers now;
A winter frosting.

Perched on a white limb,
Female cardinal is waiting
For me to pass by.

White road once again
Born again with each snowfall,
Leads nowhere at all.












Crows cut through the snow
With their blackness and their cries,
Sailing through the sky.









Perched on a white rock
A chubby white sapling sits
With its arms outstretched.

Thick flakes fall swiftly;
Billions of them floating down.
Car tracks are covered.













Footprints in the snow
Head towards me and pass by.
(I had left them there).