Morning Dove's Soft Coo

One second there's sun;
The next second there's just gloom.
Hurricane coming?

Dark slats of sunlight
Wedged between the light shadows--
Morning on my porch.


Small, dark shadowed cove
Nestled mysteriously
Hides in my front yard.


Alfred and chickens
Graze across the well kept lawn.
Who needs the gardener?

Clusters of white balls
Burst brilliantly on the bush;
Now it's their season.


Shining orange tongue--
Mushroom glistens in dark woods.
Where are the fairies?

Morning dove's soft coo
Seems to float from the mountain,
To join the cool breeze.


Sumac has returned
After missing a whole year;
Violet cones stand up.

With Liquid Bells

After a summer of constant contact and artistic stimulation from both adults and younger folks, I return to the solitude of Yerry Hill Road. What a wondrous balance.

I wait to go out--
It's almost been a season
Since I took this walk.

Is the sun the same
As it bounces off the leaves?
Or am I different?


Now there's chicory,
Feathered plants and Queen Anne's Lace
In a summer's blink.


With liquid bells
Irrepressible stream flows
Into the dark woods.


Soccer ball on grass
Is waiting for the next kick.
Some things never change.


Decomposing log
Spawns a lush tiny forest
As it's receding.


Milkweed stalks swaying;
Gentle wind billows from woods;
A few leaves skitter.


Almost reached the top--
Ivy up the tall pole;
Will it stop and rest?