With Some Scant Patches of White

Birds never get tired--

Just keep flying back and forth.

Do they ever sleep?

Gray light shining through

Illuminates trees and porch--

February's near.

Two cows enjoying

A virtual mountain of hay;

Food is all around.

The glistening cold sun

On the ever running stream

Sheds no warmth today.

Gray and dirt covered

With some scant patches of white:

The roadside snow banks.

Waving in the breeze,

Sign attached to a tree limb:

"Fire zone do not cr....."

Were not predicted,

These slow floating flakes of snow;

And yet they are here.

Roadside pool returns

Reflecting the trees above

In its dark mirror.

January Gray

January gray

Filtering through the blank clouds;

Patches of white snow.

Not even a breeze

Touches the evergreen limbs;

Then, a car passes.

They're always prepared:

Birds waiting at the feeder;

To eat or to flee.

Enjoying the taste

Of Collette in the morning.

That's what friends are for.

Shining through bleakness

Two beacons light up the gloom

On this gray morning.

Old emperor stump

Still surrounded by courtiers

Which grow tall slowly.

Dead leaves on the tree

Dangle and hang for their lives

Even though it's passed.

Lying on the ground:

Old mailbox with its mouth open.

No more letters here.

Almost a Whisper

Branches are bowing:

Either squirrels or a small breeze;

Forces of nature.

Everything is still;

A machine's whirring softly.

I'm feeling at peace.

Come ice or summer

The three chairs sit faithfully

Waiting for an ass.

Bright orange beacon

Was once a leaf on a tree;

Now just sits and glows.

Painting with shadows--

Creating new dimensions

On the old barn wall.

They're almost chartreuse,

These lichen laden branches

Lying in the woods.

Portal in a tree

Opens up the world beyond

(A few feet from it.)

Forest is singing

Its soft wordless tune today,

(Almost a whisper.)

Deeper than Death

From walk of January 20,2018

Snow bursts touch wind chimes;

Small birds huddle at feeder;

Winter storm has come. 

Between the clear drops;

Small birds come to the feeder--

Dots against the white.

Furious melting,

Persistent as a snow storm,

But much more gentle.

Against the barn door;

Collette scratches her fur cheek.

(She could be smiling.)

Shadows on the snow 

Ripples in the mirror stream;

Mysterious tracks.

St. Anthony's back,

Surrounded by his tall friends,

Unperturbed by snow.

Beneath the smooth snow

Two dead logs are sleeping--

Deeper than death.

At every winter

Ancient boulder gets older,

Sprouting a cold beard.

Ice and reflections

Exist in the roadside pond--

Give a mixed message.