Shadows Play on Memories

 

Farm house through the trees;
Shadows play on memories;
Breeze rustles the leaves.

 

 Morning light is green,
Tinged with a dash of yellow
In this Fall palette.

 

They're next to my house:
Giant ferns billowing out.
(I've never seen them.)



 

 

 Chicory shadow
Falls flat and black on the road,
Drained of all its blue.

Held fast by the vines,
Dead tree limb is suspended
Against the wire fence.

Dead leaves in fir tree;
Brown caught in the ever green;
Arrested descent.

Hand in hand they go,
Entangled in each other;
Murmuring hello's.

 

 

It's been a long time
Since Ghost has seen me visit.
He comes and then goes.

Murmur of a Breeze

 

It's Labor Day weekend;
Cars race by to catch a whiff
Of relaxation.

 

Leaves tremble lightly,
Blur for a second in light,
Then freeze in sunlight.

A dull gray box sits
High in the crotch of the tree
Humming out pictures.

Two goats are sitting;
Their heads sticking through the fence.
(Can they pull them back?)

Murmur of a breeze
Among the leaves in the woods
Wakens memories.

Bottom of the pole,
A lonely "2"  has fallen
Or just lost its way.

About to flower?
Queen Anne's Lace is in a fist
Of birth or of death.

Two empty chairs sit
In back of the wild garden.
Absence of humans.

Held Soft By the Grass

 

Mist plays with the sun;
Irish call it a "soft day."
The tree light agrees.

 

 Light patches on the lawn;
A temporary sun quilt,
Held soft by the grass.

 

My unkempt garden,
Taken over by wild plants--
Without any names.

 

Wooden cage on wheels,
Standing next to the old barn.
(Who will it carry?)

 

 The forest stream runs
Under concealing green boughs;
Silent--shimmering.

Such tiny flowers
Seem gargantuan up close;
Gulliver's viewpoint.

Nurtured by horse shit
Mushroom colonies spring up.
Forget ancestry!

As the heat bears down
Small convertible passes
Blessing its own breeze.

The Scent of Autumn

Sunday, August 24, 2014

 

Light luring me out
To the dappled yellow leaves--
The scent of Autumn.

Light through the leaves
Forms an umbrella of sun
Painted with shadows.

Light violet clover
Sits among blue chicory
With bee for a friend.

Wood bench and jogger--
Two familiars on the road.
(And with me, it's three.)

Sitting in the sky
Puffy white clouds do nothing
But play with the sun.

Shadows mold the woods,
Dance noiselessly on the road;
Nurture the asters.

Fallen leaves on road--
Mottled brown with insect bites:
Dead faces smiling.

It's butter and eggs;
That's my breakfast this morning.
(Flower reminds me.)

 

 

Monday, August 25, 2014

Brightness all around;
The sun captures the landscape--

Swift and silently. 

 

 Shadows of chickens
In the woods of my neighbor
Bobbing and pecking.

Seashells on my porch,
Far from the ocean's edge
And the clear salt air.

The neighbor's cat waits,
For her friend, my cat Stella,
Dead nearly four years.

Journey on their bikes--
Mother and son to see goats
In the empty field.

Always the brown leaves
Hang among the vibrant green--
Nature's reminder.

Goldenrod hopping;
There's no time for scenery.
Busy as a bee.

The old bridge log lies
Across the ditch of green grass.
Doesn't wonder why.