Maybe They Will Learn

Folded brown leaf lies

Neatly, next to the old broom--

Waiting on the porch.

Its green leaves outstretched

Catching the rays of the sun

Seems to wave at me.

Poised like a dancer:

Heron at edge of the pond

Watching me watch him.

Small green leaves climbing

Over the gray brown tree stump

Whisper life to it.

From the dark forest

A flat smooth patch shines brightly:

Flowing stream below.

Mysterious road

Appears to me on my walk.

I've never seen it.

Bouquet of briers

Erupts from the steel road fence.

Present,  anyone?

Bears have knocked it down

But they can't pick the lock yet.

(Maybe they will learn.)

In Their Zig Zag Way

Monster on the porch

Lies flat against the shingles,

Thin legged and waiting.

Tree on my porch,

Happy to be sitting there

In the cool morning.

Rhododendron buds

Ready to burst into bloom.

(They'll wait for six months).

They're slowly falling:

Golden flowers in Autumn,

From yellow to brown.

Leaves fall without sound,

Floating gently to the ground

In their zig zag way.

Three people en route;

Gabriel has walking stick

Longer than he is.

Road is so silent

That I hear the woods singing

High pitched and tuneless.

Crossing the gray sea

Small black beetle moves onward

(Then it turns away).

Soft September Morn

It's not quite cloudy;

Irish call it a "soft day";

Soft September morn.

 Green leaves are gleaming,

Reflecting the soft sunlight

Filtered by green leaves.

Green moss on my lawn

Taking over from the grass--

A soft victory.

Brown tree on the hill

Nestled among companions

Who will follow soon.

Clover, chicory,

Goldenrod and Queen Anne's Lace:

September harvest.

Always mystery--

What's lying around the bend;

Never know for sure.

Bright butter and eggs

Tempting me by the road side.

(I want to eat them.)

No trespassing signs

And padlock on the trash can.

(Air's still unfettered).