Only the Wind Moves

Just a few white dots

Sail softly through the gray air.

(Will there be millions?)

Old bird feeder rests

Against the forsythia.

Does it wait for Spring?

Snorfling her food

Olivia stands in the door

Calm and unperturbed.

Flecked with fallen leaves;

Framed with mosaic patterns--

Winter ice puddle.

Ice wind up the road;

The dead leaves are all frozen;

Only the wind moves.

My friend stops to chat;

He sits in the car, I stand;

I feel much warmer.

The fallen speed sign

Lies uncommunicative,

Its message now mocked.

Fallen garbage can

Held in a permanent thrall

By its cold steel chains.

 

Universal Melt

Has Spring returned here?

Winter has not even come.

What is going on?

Sunlight on feeder;

Birds keep on gorging themselves;

(Act like it's winter.)

They eat anything,

Even my rhododendrons

Which have only buds.

Sweater and Spring coat

Is all I need on this day.

(What season is this?)

Stream's now torrential,

Roaring its water onward

With a sense of purpose.

Instant waterfall

Runs swift down the mountainside

Adding its chorus.

Water is everywhere:

In sky, ice and running streams--

Universal melt.

Frantic moth searches

In the trees and the bushes.

(Has it lost its way?)

Shaken From The Sky

November 15, 2018

It's all white again

And the sun shines on the snow;

Yes, I will shovel.

A few flakes still fall;

It's so comfy warm inside;

But I will go out.

November 17, 2018

The new feeder's out

And the happy squirrels still try;

(And fall on their ass.)

World is white and green;

Sky perpetually gray.

Wind chime is ringing.

Day after the snow

Whiteness changes into gray--

Winter is now here.

Susan's wheelbarrow

Always filled with sustenance

Or wood for the fire.

Over the swift stream

Bright red winter berries hang

Shedding their own light.

St. Francis watches

Unperturbed by ice or snow;

Always in prayer mode.

Amid the dead leaves

Green leaves are still flourishing.

(Their time will come soon.)

Leaves spread on the snow--

A vast sprinkle of old brown

Shaken from the sky.

It's Thanksgiving Time

It's Thanksgiving time

And Owen gets his mouthful

As Ingrid watches.

 End of November;

Gray skies have become the rule;

Waiting for winter.

Birds still flutter,

(As long as there is bird seed);

I will watch them eat.

Collette has new boots

With compliments of the mud.

(Early Spring fashion).

Slowly smoke rises

Lazily from the chimney

Ascending skyward.

Dirty gray and white

The snowfield is past its prime

Melting in the cold.

Drops of rain falling,

Tick, tick ticking on my coat.

(It's time to turn back).

Blue and protected

Lying shiny in driveway:

It's yesterday's news.