Contours and Shadows

 

 

 

 

Wood stripes and shadows--
A view from my front window;
My own gallery.

Shadows weave the snow,
Flatten branches on the ground--
Sun's embroidery.

Tracks across the snow
Always pose a mystery:
Who? When? Why? And How?

Flowing down the bank,
Shadows cling to the contours
Of the sloping hill.

Woods are screaming
In their silent high pitched wail.
What are they saying?

 

 

 

Contours and shadows:
Shapes reduced to their essence
On the snow's palette.

Long after it's dead,
The giant tree guards the road;
Cut down but upright.

 

 

Hopping and stopping
Bird searches in front of me--
Hunger nixes fear.