First Snow of Winter

Walk of Sunday, November 20, 2016






Everything's frosted;

Suddenly the world is white--

First snow of winter.

Drops from my roof top

Foretell the end of the snow

Just as it began.

Huddled in her stall

Collette enjoys her breakfast;

Peeks out at the snow.

Old skeletal husks

Taking on a new function:

Snow receptacles.

Despite the snow fall

The stream continues to flow--

Some things never change.

Deep forest is whiter;

Brisk breeze murmurs in the trees--

Then all is silent.

Still cling to the trees:

Brown leaves that have lost their way

And found a new home.

Shaking like a leaf

Small bird sits on a high branch

Against the slate sky.

Fleeing Paradise

Sitting in the chair,

I feel so comfortable.

Why can't I just sleep?

There will be magic--

On the road, in the bushes,

There's always magic.

Three swings and three chairs:

Three dimensionality;

A sunny morning.

Slow late November,

Feeling like Indian summer;

Suspiciously warm.

Out of the shadows

And into the bright sunlight

She walks joyously.

Silhouetted high

Gentle insistent tapping--

Woodpecker hunting.

Dashing squirrel on road

Barely missed by speeding car,

Lives another day.

This sweet sunny day

Cars come ripping down the road

Fleeing paradise.

Perched on a tree top

Crow calls out to near and far:

"Know that I am here!"

Between Two High Wires

Pressed against window

Plant is trying to come in.

(A fear of winter?)

The light is harsher;

Soft rays of summer have gone;

Starkness of winter.

In the middle of brown

Golden bush blooms on my lawn

Forgetting seasons.

Soft clucking of hens;

Deep rolling trolls of the goats;

Morning barnyard sounds.

Old, gray and sagging

Out building has lived too long.

Still, it stays standing.

Old barren stream bed

Carries dead leaves and sunlight

And dreams of water.

Between two high wires

Last night's moon, shining faintly

Sheds a blue gray light.

I take just one step

And move from the bright sunshine

Into peaceful shade.

Goodbye Queen Anne's Lace

Beige bird in a bush

Tries to be invisible;

(And nearly succeeds)

Tail twitching gray squirrel

Sitting under the brown bush

Drawing attention.

The moss on my lawn

Is overtaking the grass--

Green revolution.

Skeletal husks wave
In the gentle morning breeze--
Goodbye Queen Anne's Lace.

From under dead leaves

Sprouts of fresh green grass spring up

To meet the morning.

Two broken branches

Slide slowly into the earth

Covered by green moss.

Framed by empty swings

Susan sweeps leaves from her lawn.

(Always morning chores).

A cry from the woods--

A cracking tree in the wind.

(Or was it a child?)

Shadow or a Branch?

Shadow or a branch?

Neither branch nor a shadow;

A trick of the eye.

Branches wave and nod

In the silent world outside;

Window blocks all sound.

The two bovine friends

Touch base with some cow snuggles

While chewing their cuds.

Yesterday's rainfall

Has left a mini swamp land

This sunny morning.

Luminescent leaves

And the swiftly flowing stream--

Morning sights and sounds.

Mushroom family sits

On the hospitable tree,

Nibbled by creatures.

Path into the woods

Dappled in the morning light,

Muted, beige and bright.

Barren stream bed flows

With dead leaves but not water--

Seasonal changes.