It's Christmas Eve Day

It's Christmas Eve day
Still the cows keep munching hay,
And the sun still shines.

 

Hira and Lucy
Begin the long walk with me;
(Already seems short).

On the gray pavement
Wood "pi" is represented--
Road geometry.

Mailbox ornaments
Expanded for the season--
Sparkling holidays.

 

Walking With Hira

A single snow flake
Floats slowly past my window
Followed by legions.

They come and they go
These mischievous snow flakes.
I wish they would stay.

 Walking with Hira;
We have so much to discuss;
Little time to write.

 Flurries of snow flakes
Sweep across the the gray sky.
Thank God for winter!

 

 Walk of December 22, 2012

Tears from the Mountain

 

Gray sky and wind shake;
Outside, the rule of water--
Floods from everywhere.

 

My stream is racing,
Tearing down from the mountain,
Tumbling past my house.

 

Even as streams shriek
Placid water pools abound;
Rough wind shakes the sky.

 

This once peaceful brook
Races to join the river
Over the driveway.

Does it end this way:
Not with bursts of light and fire
But with tumbling floods?

 

Rushing down the hill
White foamed loud and furious
Stream then disappears.

 

A sheet of water
Pours down over the old rock--
Tears from the mountain.

Under the old tree
Several streams of water flow.
Is it giving birth?

White Frost on the Lawn

White frost on the lawn;
Guess it substitutes for snow,
Or a white Christmas. 

Always the cars rush,
Fall, winter, spring or summer;
They're trans seasonal.

Barn smells, always warm,
Acrid aroma of life--
Cows, chickens and hay.

 

Crystalline branches
Sparkle in the morning light.
Just frozen water?

Slowly passing car--
Driver waves a lazy hand;
His thoughts are elsewhere.

Suspended for months,
Severed limb, not up or down;
In wooden limbo.

Snoring of saws;
Men sweep up the giant chips;
Tall trees are no more.

In the morning light
Even the wire fence looks good--
Sunshine cosmetics.
 
 From walk of Friday, December 14, 2012

It's Twelve and Twelve and Twelve

It's twelve twelve and twelve;
Light falling through the windows
Cares not for numbers.

It's below freezing;
Inside, it's snug and cozy;
Outside is my walk.

How quiet is the road;
Transformer hums on the pole;
Hen tip toes in barn.

 

Wagon by the swing;
Chairs sit in the frosted lawn;
All wait for behinds.

 

Dead leaves on the rocks;
White frost on the pine needles;
Everything is still.

 

 Hanging from the limb,
A mysterious whiteness.
(Lichen on a branch).

Placards on the trees--
Many shapes and odd colors:
"Here is where we live!"

 

 Querulous crow
Seems to be asking questions.
(Don't know the answers.)

Foreign Intruders

It's so very late--

Still the pine trees keep waving
And the bright sun blazes.

 

Like faint chirping birds
Children shout outside my house;
I see them running.

It's almost balmy;
Olivia rubs her head.
All's right with the world.

Suddenly it's cold;
Clouds have drawn across the sun.
Just intermission.

Propped against the tree
A slender piece of plywood.
(Coming or going?)

Moss spots on the tree
Glisten in the morning sun.
Must be tree freckles.

 

 

 

 

Red cloth in the woods;
Plastic bottle by the tree:
Foreign intruders.

How many journeys
Have I missed this dark tree stump
Lurking in the woods?