Beginning again
The long/short summer over
My haiku journey

Everything is still;
My steps return to the road.
Just where have I been?

Fence is lush with weeds;
The field billows with beige hay;
Fly buzzes in my ear.

The leaves shake gently;
Butterfly zags zanily;
The light is muted.

Jewel weed lines the road;
Old black dog still sleeps on porch;
Sun peeps through the clouds.

Acorns in the road
Scattered about playfully.
Where are the squirrels?

Bright blue chicory,
Orange jewel weed, Queen Anne's Lace,
Red Marlboro box.

It's short sleeves now;
Rooster crowing, birds chirping;
Puffed clouds fill the sky.

Robin on a fence
Stands stiffly balancing then
Teeters into flight.

Sun peeks out from clouds
Shedding shadows on the road;
Stream burbles softly.

Outside green prevails;
Inside, t.v. colors splash.
Here the air smells sweet.

The sun is hiding;
Now there are no more shadows.
Only the birds speak.

Car rides by swiftly;
A young woman waves at me.
A passing sweetness.

Here the stream's empty;
Grass is growing in its bed.
Look! Budweiser can.

Centipede on road
Slinks swiftly to other side.
What will it do there?

The sun splashes me;
Rooster calls from the dark barn.
Insects are humming.

Small white parachute
Floats above the sunny road.
Poof! Dandelion.

Yellow flashing light:
School bus stops for a student
But there is no one there.

Morning sun on bush;
Dark tunnel between the trees;
Shadows in the woods.

Brown path in the woods;
Small pools of sun melt the dark.
Does it go no where?

The birds are chirping;
The morning sun splashes me;
My dumb mind chatters.

Dogs in the window
Yip and yap behind the screen.
Best that they stay there.

Shepherds on a leash
Turn and see me and then tug.
What is it they want?

Lumbering black dog
Walks stiffly towards me and stops;
We check each other.

Top of leaning tire
Looks like an old black turtle.
Perhaps it is one.

Small purple flowers
At the edge of the lush woods.
A car races by.

Amidst the lush green
The stiff sign pops out and up:
This Road is Private.

Faint tiny drumbeats:
The rain patters in the woods;
Maple leaf quivers.

Burst of purple:
Flowers near "No Parking" sign.
Are they illegal?

High grass in the field
And daisies and buttercups.
Where is the snow now?

Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.

Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.

Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.

Two doves on a wire;
The third dove has flown away.
Bird monogamy.

Purple, white and green;
Lilacs contrast with the trees.
There is no conflict.

Two doves on the road
Fly away and then return.
It is courtship time.

The fence is falling;
Tree leaves entwine bent links.
It's nature's embrace.

The dark, dead tree stump
Alive with moss and flowers;
Sculpture in the woods.

Flash of blue feathers;
The bird flies behind the tree;
Then disappears.

May breeze in my ear
Brings faint hollow memories
Like a large sea shell.

Standing in the road
Deer stares intently at me
Then goes on its way

Now it's lilac time;
Lavender and white compete;
Bird flies from the bush.

The field is clipped neat--
Timna's bat mitzvah here soon.
Robins peck the grass.

Sky is full of gray;
A cold wind blows down the road.
A hard rain will fall.

Chain saw is humming;
Empty wrapper on the road.
A cold May morning.

Vaulted trees ahead
Touch their tips above the road,
Make a green tunnel.

Thousands of white buds
Spread across the forest bank
Waiting to blossom.

Rain is in the air;
Maple leaves are trembling;
Lilacs bow and sway.

The woods seem deeper,
The stone wall goes on and on
Into the darkness.

Carried on the wind:
The whispered breath of lilacs
And the hope of rain.

Gray clouds, sun patches,
Shivering rustling leaves;
A fragrant wind blows.

A flash of yellow:
Finch flutters to the tree top
And joins the green leaves.

White petals flutter;
Pale lilac bends in the breeze
Broadcasting its smell.

Truck groans up the hillLeaving a gasoline smell.
Then the woods return.

The deep, dappled woods--
Shiny puddles here and there.
Smell of moist, warm earth.

Shadows on the road;
Bird calls monotonously;
Fly hums in my ear.

Now the road is dark;
A hawk flies beneath the cloud
Just a silhouette.

Now stream is rushing,
Tinkling next to the road.
Now the bed is dry.

Shadow in the woods
Still, dark and mysterious--
A dog or tree stump?

Purring lawn mower
Moves swiftly across the field.
Sweet smell of cut grass.

The thick smell of rain;
Robin flies to the bush top;
Everything's muted.

Yellow newspaper,
Crumpled soggy in the grass;
A bird's wings flutter.

Baseball on the lawn
Abandoned by its owners
Awaits with patience.

Small sprinkle of blue
Lights up a patch in the woods;
Counter to the green.

Thick gray sky holds promise;
The woods are muted and still;
Small van moves slowly.

Clusters of white buds
Hang their heads at the road's edge;
Soon they will burst forth.

Lavender clusters
Waft off whispered memories:
Voice of the lilacs.

The shiny green vine
Twists gently up the phone pole;
Whoops! It's poison ivy.

Road sign says "Our Road";
On it some gleaming water.
Is it "Our Puddle"?

Green leaves on bare trees
Sprouting as if by magic.
Not there yesterday?

Rooster crows loudly;
He knows not the flower's names
(And neither do I).

The stream moves faintly
As if it enjoys the sun.
What's not to enjoy?

Lilacs are budding;
Forsythia is dying.
The parade of Spring.

The woods look witchy;
Spring shadows and fairy light;
Movement in stillness.

Dandelion puffs
Stream gently above the road.
Passing travelers.

Woods are thick with green;
Sunlight filters through the laves
And falls in shadows.

Tiny blue flowers
Sprout in clusters in the shade
Draw my eyes to them.

Forsythia blooms
Now lie scattered on the ground.
Where has the time gone?

Dandelion heads:
Yellow sprinkles by the road;
One is a gray puff.

The little Shih Tzu
Bark and bounce against window.
It's more fun outside.

Calmness on the road;
Birds hoot softly in the woods;
Waves of insect songs.

Dead raccoon is gone;
A dark patch marks where it was.
Just the smell remains.

Pine shaped air freshener
Lying face down on the road
Imitates nature.

Air is taffy sweet;
Breeze brings grass and flower smells--
School's end memories.

Path into the woods
Covered with brown pine needles
Touched by soft sunlight.

A soft white seed puff
Floats and twirls above the road
Riding on the breeze.

Fresh smell in the breeze;
Wind comes swirling down the hill
And stirs the pine tree.

The rolling green field,
Now touched by patches of brown.
Colors have reversed.

Phosphorescent haze
Floats yellow above my head
Fresh forsythia.

Fluttering white moth
Hovers above the dead leaves.
What is it seeking?

Christmas ornaments,
Still hanging from the mailbox
Sparkle in Spring light.

Stone wall in the woods
Climbs to the top of the hill
Camouflaged by rocks.

Crazy little bugs
Buzz frantic around my eyes;
A sure sign of Spring.

Fluttering black moth
Alights softly on the road
And becomes stillness.

Pine branches swaying;
A breeze ripples up the tree.
How blue is the sky.

Robin in the tree
Sits and sways in the breeze.
He just won't let go.

A lone daffodil
Pokes up from the ground cover:
Blast of white on green.

"Reward! Find our Dog"
The sign is tacked to the poles.
The puppy is gone.

Shadows cross the road
With straight black stripes like zebras.
They're ghosts of the trees.

Pine needles sparkle;
The sun illuminates them.
I must close my eyes.

Small buds on the branch
Peek out green and cautiously;
Then sway in the breeze.

The dog frolics forth;
He runs towards me and goes past.
He's meeting his friends.

The bleached bare tree trunk
Stands amid the other trees.
But they are alive.

The Basset Hound's ears
Lift and flop as I scratch them.
He's in ecstasy.

The blinding white house
Lit up by the morning sun;
Two loud roosters crow.

A call and response:
Two cocks crow at each other
Across a wide field.

Tiny blue flowers
Are sprinkled across the lawn:
Spring awakening.

Yellow more yellow;
Green more green and brown more brown;
Magic of the sun.

Four men blowing leaves
Each with giant vacuums;
The dirt stings my eyes.

The wind blows a tree;
It sings a high groaning sound.
Even wood wakes up.

Two loud woodpeckers
Echo themselves in the trees.
Forest counterpoint.

Washer in the woods
Partly covered with wasp's nest
Still waits patiently.

The cardboard "Sale" sign
Hangs limply on the light pole.
The sale is over.

Green buds on the bush;
The sun illuminates them;
Just what will they be?

Rasping lawn machine
Fills the air with its racket.
A woodpecker pecks.

Bright speckled sunlight
Splashes gently through the woods,
Deep, now, but not dark.

The uprooted tree
Lies brown and bare in the woods
Next to a green bush.

Dead branch on rock ledge
Hangs off precipitously.
Will it ever fall?

A circle of rocks
Sits a few yards in the woods.
What tale does it tell?

The collapsed stone wall
Disappears into the woods.
Does it ever end?

Mist covered morning;
Ghost trees stand on the field's edge.
The road disappears.

Sun breaks through the fog;
Soft shadows fall on the road,
Then they disappear.

A burst of yellow
Erupts through the fog ahead:
Forsythia bush.

Trees are cloaked in mist;
They seem to whisper secrets;
Sun shines behind them.

Fuzzy green mullein
Sits happily in dead leaves;
Soaking up moisture.

Sun breaks through the mist
Illuminating the trees.
Plane hums out of sight.

Two dogs on the hill
Sit silently like statues.
They don't even bark.

The old black tree stump
Looks as if it has been burned;
Just the fires of time.

The fog has lifted;
Sun sprays shadows on the road;
A car hood sparkles.

Drops on the road sign
Hang there precipitously.
The sun shines through them.

Moist and spicy smell;
Shiny slug crosses the road.
Full April morning.

Two robins playing
Hop and flutter together.
Must be mating time.

Forsythia blooms;
Bursts of yellow on the fence;
Birds call back and forth.

Moisture in the air;
The rich sweet smell of the earth.
The woods are silent.

The sun is softer
Touching the electric poles
And muting shadows.

Soft clouds veil the sun,
Then slide away letting light.
A lone bird twitters.

White dog in the woods
Sniffs the leaves and then moves on.
Ghost with wagging tail.

Bright blotch on the road
Stands out against the grayness:
The first dead red eft.

White dog meets black dogs;
She lies down, they sniff and piss.
Dog introductions.

Black dog looks longing
As white dog leaves him behind,
Thinks, "She's pretty cute."

Warbling bird call;
Rooster puts in his two cents;
Light beam breaks through cloud.

Robin pecks at hay,
Comes up with beak full of grass,
Says, "Yichh. Where's my worm?"

The wires are humming;
A dove hoots its swallowed cry;
Forsythia buds.

Robin skims the field
Then stands stock still and waiting.
Where is the next worm?

The stream seems lighter,
The water clearer, brighter.
The sky is so blue.

The green beer bottle
Lies next to green chive cluster
Near the dead raccoon.

Black line in the woods;
Electricity through the trees;
All without a sound.

The spider tree stump
Leans grasping over the rocks
With nothing to grab.

Gray muzzled old dog
Lifts his head to glance at me
Then plops back to sleep.

The bare brown dead tree
Has fallen against two pines.
Like friends, they prop it.

It's both sun and clouds;
Small bird fidgets on a wire;
Basset wags its tail.

Robin hops and turns;
Man pulls empty wheelbarrow;
Spring preparation.

Chives stand like soldiers
Guarding the road side in clumps;
They must like car fumes.

My toes are happy,
Open at last to the air.
End of shoe hiding.

Small dandelions
Sprinkled merrily near woods.
Where did they come from?

The shadows are soft;
Sun glistens on car windows;
Distant chain saw sounds.

Shadow of a fan
Whirls ghostlike and silently
In the quiet house.

Small dandelions,
Their yellow phosphorescence
Shouting from the leaves.

An old dead brown leaf
Skitters and jerks on the road;
Puppet of the breeze.

Wind is in the woods
Whispering among the trees:
"It's time to wake up."

Boy leans against tree;
Looks languidly at brother.
It's vacation time.

Cock crows on Sunday;
Fat little bird ignores me;
No cloud in the sky.

Nose poked through the fence
Sad eyed Basset wants a scratch
Then back to his howl.

The fence posts ripple;
Their wooden slats skip and sway.
What good do they do?

The electric pole:
Wires stream from its crossed beams.
Crucified current.

The woods seem greeneries;
Moss on logs, sun through the pines.
The promise of Spring.

The sun is quiet
As it falls upon the road
Without a whisper.

A brown beer bottle
Lies in a roadside puddle.
It almost fits in.

Glisten in the woods;
It's a pool of fresh water.
No ice any more.

The dogs bark again;
Each time they do the same thing.
Why don't they get bored?

Birds sing all around;
The sky is gray and pregnant.
An Irish soft day.

White patch in the woods;
Could it be some stubborn snow?
No. Just some plastic.

Hollow woodpecker
Beats a tattoo on the tree.
Barking dog lies down.

The trees promise green;
The gray sky promises rain;
April is not cruel.

The forest is moist;
Water puddles in stream beds;
The dark earth is soft.

The green chive clusters
Stand pointedly together
Waiting to be munched.

"For Sale by Owner"--
The sign is tacked to the tree.
Who will own the woods?

I wear gloves again;
The sky gray and overcast.
Could this be April?

Flutter in the field;
Robins quickly hop around.
Cold wind brushes past.

Distant rooster crows;
The stream warbles on its way.
Ahead, car door slams.

The woodpeckered tree
Stands upright and full of holes.
Other trees have buds.

Above, a plane purrs;
Below, the road is silent.
I am in between.

Black glove on a branch
Points aimlessly towards the ground.
It seeks its owner.

The road bends ahead;
For now, beyond is unseen.
Then it's visible.

Etched against the sky
Spider branches of the trees.
Look! There's a small bird.

Black birds in the tree
Sit framed against the blue sky;
Cat strolls to the barn.

Blue sky, chirping birds
Languid stream and bright shadows;
Now it's really Spring.

All the dogs are out;
Unseen bird repeats itself.
Robins scout the grass.

Everything is still;
The trees bespeak their silence;
Sunlight falls quietly.

Now the sun greets me;
I walk down the winding hill.
You have to love Spring.

The jagged tree stump
Sits in the shade of the woods.
Spring will not change it.

Weather beaten barn
In the strong morning sunlight;
Tree shadows on it.

Sky is endless blue;
A lone plane cuts its surface
Leaving sound behind.

Shadows on the stream
Make its surface a mirror.
The water is still.

Car from wealthy house
Splutters and farts as it leaves.
Must be a worker.

Three D woods today;
In two days I'll be in France;
Now there's just my road.

Wind calls all over;
An old branch creaks behind me;
Ahead the trees bow.

My four legged friend
Joins me without a mutter;
We each do our thing.

My friend walks slowly;
She waits for me to catch up
And then trots ahead.

The air smells so sweet;
The breeze brings a promise of Spring;
A jogger trots by.

Still water in stream;
There's not even a ripple.
Soon the flood will come.

The monochrome woods;
Thousand brown variations,
Green splashed against it.

The shadows appear
As the sun breaks through gray clouds
And then hides its face.

First sun, then clouds, then...
Each phase seems everlasting.
Now is forever.

A long, lone snow patch
Lies in the shade of the woods.
It just won't give up.

Clusters of white buds
Bob and weave in the soft breeze.
Now I know it's Spring.

Wire around the tree
Rusty encircling the trunk.
Tree has swallowed it.

Dead bird in forest
Lies stiff and gray on the ground.
Oh! It's just some wood.

Picking up garbage;
The sun is mild today.
There's an old beer can.

Lying on the grass,
Rotting, but not fast enough:
"Waste Management" sign.

The clouds are layered:
Puffy white, thin gray on blue.
Woodpecker rattles.

Robins in the field
Hop quickly in unison;
Don't seem to be worms.

The clouds are shifting;
In the sky there is motion;
Below, all is still.

Within the fenced woods
Some of the trees have red paint.
Marked doomed prisoners.

Even though it's cold
Unseen bird chirps cheerily
And lightens the air.

Three trees guard the woods
With signs that say "No Parking".
(Who parks in the woods?)

There, the stream is still:
No ice, no flow, no burbles.
Yet there are sparkles.

Lone snowflakes scatter;
Clouds and sun compete above--
The first day of Spring.

An insistent wind
Blows steadily and then dies;
A distant crow calls.

It's March twentieth;
Weatherman says Spring is here;
Why is it so cold?

Old filing cabinet
Brown and rusting in the woods.
Does it hold secrets?

Chubby little bird
Hopping quick from branch to branch
Pays me no mind.

Same old road curving;
Same hill twists up the mountain;
A surprise ahead.

Robin on the road
Lies motionless as asleep.
How did it get here?

My mind has wondered;
I conjure many worries.
Sun has come and gone.

Beer cans, plastic wrap,
Cigarette boxes, old bags.
The road, woods, are raped.

White specks float gently;
Gray clouds billow together;
Two days before Spring.

Chimney's lazy smoke
Swirls slowly without the wind,
And then it rises.

A pile of cut wood
Lies awkwardly on the ground;
The owners have left.

The sun is muted;
Soft shadows in the forest;
Poof! It's bright again.

The snow flakes have gone;
Gray has given way to blue.
Sun has won for now.

My four legged friend
Keeps me company today.
She stops at her house.

The wind pushes me;
Pine needles tremble and shake.
Clouds have won again.

First sun and then clouds,
A ping pong game in heaven.
I can only watch.

Rooster crows the sun
Splashed brightly on house and field.
How blue the sky is.

Cold, rough wind explodes
Splashing my face with its ice;
Then it whimpers down.

Black shadows are sharp;
They lie starkly on the ground;
Cold relentless sun.

Ticking woodpecker
Chitters in the ice cold morn.
Just a distant sound.

Sun shines through the woods
Pine needles glow and glimmer;
Dead brown leaves glisten.

Ladder in the woods;
Bright orange on the dead leaves.
Stepping to nowhere.

Lean, brown and shiny
The Schnauzer sits like a statue.
He's had a haircut.

A crisp March morning;
The crows caw above the barn;
Bird sits on a wire.

Smell of burning wood,
Then passing school bus fumes--
Two roadside perfumes.

Two old brown scuffed shoes
Skewed awkwardly near the fence
Waiting for some feet.

An open mail box:
Post man didn't shut its mouth;
Now it stands yawning.

In a frozen hunch
The black dog squeezes a poop
Then trots on its way.

Today's companion:
The black dog travels with me.
We go in silence.

Nose deep in the leaves
The dog studies a new scent
Then pisses again.

It's a moist gray day;
The woods are still and quiet.
Everything's waiting.

Snow on the tree's crotch
Autumn leaves hang from a limb;
Both signs of time passed.

Everything is still:
Brown woods, snow patches, gray sky;
Above--noiseless bird.

Orange cabin light
Gleams down the hill through the woods;
Gray morning beacon.

Fungus on dead tree
Sits high on the branches
Gleaming its whiteness.

A pregnant gray sky;
School bus flashes its red lights;
I feel a rain drop.

Birds twitter in sky
Gray and pregnant with moisture;
A dove coos softly.


A moist blue gray day;
Near the barn a woman rakes;
Birds cry in the sky.

Snow field's disappeared
Leaving a vast brown expanse.
Winter's really gone?

Woodpecker is back
Rat a tatting out of sight.
Unfortunate grubs.

My pen is long gone
Buried by fall and winter.
Still I look for it.

Dog shit in the road;
Beer can lies against oak tree.
Two animal's waste.

A chorus of geese
Fly unseen through the thick clouds;
Only their sounds moves.

Old dog licks himself;
Other one scratches his ear.
Doggie ablutions.

Softball in bushes
Across the road from football.
Two abandoned toys.

It's like a ghost town;
All the houses are quiet
Under the gray sky.

Dead squirrel on the road
Crushed like a flat gray pancake
Squirliness result.

Black wings on brown limbs;
The crow flies to the tree top
Sitting and cawing.

The stream is white now;
Birds flutter from its surface;
Sun does not melt it.

Ivy covered stump;
Tree's dead but ivy's alive.
Two states coexist.

Now all is frozen;
The gray snow slush forms statues.
Even clouds are still.

In poor people's yard
Cardinals flutter in bushes.
Nature knows no class.

Sun strikes the woods;
Shadows leap, fir trees shimmer.
Still the stream's frozen.

From the frozen stream
Tinkling, trickling of water;
Illusion of sound?

White cat in the field
Sits as still as a statue.
Crow jeers from tree top.

Sharp morning shadows
Play with sunlight in the field;
Crisp, icy wind blows.

The stream is ice now,
No trickle just still whiteness;
Cold wind kisses it.

Ice wind in the woods
Murmurs in the bare tree limbs;
Old branch creaks softly.

There's sun but no warmth;
A breeze, but it's icy harsh;
Still, the old dogs bask.

Light lies on the leaves;
Wind whispers in the chilled woods;
A winter stillness.

Now my mind wanders
Conjuring imagined hurts.
Wind blows them away.

It's sure to snow now;
Sky is thick, gray, air is ice;
Birds fly frantically.

Beige lies upon beige:
Schnauzer curls up on the leaves
Huddled against wind.

The stream is halted;
Ice skin covers the water.
There are no trickles.

The darkness bears down;
Icy wind cuts through the trees.
The sky is pregnant.

Pick up truck rattles
Bumping on the old dirt road--
Race to beat the snow.

Car lights shine brightly
Even though it's late morning.
Dark is descending.

Flutter doves to tree
Branch hopping and then stopping;
Looking all around.

Hazy sun morning;
Small birds peck at the feeder;
Frost is on the field.

Birds leap branch to branch
High on the tall leafless tree.
Crow struts in the field.

Football in the yard;
It's laid unused for two days.
Won't someone kick it?

You have to look twice:
A fur clump, a tail and leaves.
The dead raccoon melts.

Leaves in the stream bed;
No sign of water or ice.
Just winter's stillness.

The sweet sense of spring,
Spicy grass, sun and cock's crow
In February.

Everything seems brown:
Trees, leaves and even the stream.
Wait! An evergreen.

Music from the shack
Floats gently onto the road.
Carpenter at work.

The stream bed is dry,
Ice patches recall its past.
When will water flow?

They are bedraggled:
Christmas bells on the mail box.
Why don't they just leave?

My two old friends wait
Huddled on a patch of sun.
Inseparable Labs.

Snow is in the air
But the woods and road are bare.
Wind's whispers foretell.

Today's a beige day;
Brown shades cover everything.
Even green's subdued.

Sparkling on brown leaves
Preternatural green flash:
Mountain Dew bottle.

Same road and same walk,
Same sun, same sky and same trees.
Everything's different.

Porch door is ajar;
Rent sign leans against the fence.
The family is gone.

Blue shines through the trees;
The pond lies beyond the woods.
Now, all is naked.

Warm sun lights the woods
Painting green moss and white ice.
Strange February.

The old sawed tree stump
Hovers, bared roots like spiders.
Menacing in death.

Bristling in the sun
The bare trees enjoy a respite;
Break in the winter.

It is warm today;
The birds chirp at each other;
February's prank.

Hawk against the blue
Circles slow, red tail flashing.
Soon it will plummet.

Signs on many trees:
"Out!" "Private!" "No Trespassing!"
The sun is laughing.

Black dog checks me out;
From behind it sniffs my hand,
Then goes its own way.

"Posted" "Land for Sale".
Where are the developers?
Woods wait for the ax.

Against the blue sky
A cloud cat snarls into space
Slowly dissolving.

"Invisible fence";
Sign is posted on a tree,
An oxymoron.

After the light snow
Snow plow grates on the driveway
Ripping the soft white.

White house and white barn
Stand on unbroken snow field;
Dark windows peep out.

The woods are naked;
Trees reveal all their secrets
Bare against the snow.

Bright light but no warmth;
Sunny promises up ahead.
Just wishful thinking.

The gnarled twisted tree
Still stands upright in the woods
Even thought it's dead.

Shadows of the trees
Fall dark and straight on the snow
And don't make a sound.

Gray snowy morning,
Tiny white specks dot the sky.
My feet crunch the ground.

Sun has retreated;
All light comes from the whiteness:
The road, the roof, birch.

Pale green ribbon flies
Fluttering from the tree branch
Dancing with the snow.

The baby pine tree
Stands frosted at the roadside;
Its snowy milieu.

Snow road is empty;
Tire, footprints, belie life.
Where is everyone?

If you listen close
You can hear snowflakes fall
And whisper "pit pit".

We stop and chatter
Passing on the snowy road.
Then silence resumes.

Tiny specks of snow
Swirl merrily through the air.
Then, only the sun.

Frosted field and woods:
Just the dark snake stream cuts through
Breaking the whiteness.

Bright sun and blue sky;
Forest dances in the light.
Weather man says snow.

Lighter than feather
The snowflakes float to the ground
And then disappear.

Small bird skims the road
Disappearing in its glare
And lights on a bush.

Fat bird on high wire
Sits still and surveys the scene,
Far from any cat.

A sun splashed red barn
With green wreath on a window.
Winter's bright colors.

Pink house is empty;
Ladder lies on the toy car
The children are gone.

Mailbox red flag up
Trash cans neatly side by side.
Still Life is waiting.

A thin skin of ice.
Today the streams are silent.
Deep winter's muffler.

The car rushes past
Stirring up a cloud of dust;
Cold sun's rays stream through.

Shadows everywhere;
Cold winter's sun shines brightly
Brings darkness to light.

The stream in the woods
Sparkling rushes in the sun.
It lightly murmurs.

The rain is over;
Puddles mirror in the field.
The sun claims its own.

A man and two dogs;
He pulls them--they surge forward;
Who is walking whom?

A still pile of fur;
Raccoon still sleeps by the snow.
Its soul has long gone.

The snow is filthy;
Its whiteness tempered by dirt.
Elements battle.

The wind or a stream?
There's a rushing in the woods.
Air mimics water.

The black dog sees me;
He stops, pees, and turns around
His tail like a sail.

Yerry Hill Road Haiku

The light is subdued;
Puddles of ice and scattered snow.
Winter interlude.

There's a hushed stillness;
Then rooster crows and bird chirps;
Then stillness again.

The orange swing hangs
Its green guard loosely open
Waiting for a child.

Brown beer bottle lies
Cushioned by the pine needles;
Hospitable woods.

Haiku up the hill:
Labored words are puffing, then
Poof! I'm at the top.

Light flashes on rock
Sparking a liquid blink.
Swiftly rushing stream.

Sun shines through the mist;
Behind the trees are ghost trees.
A winter's softness.

A mist touches the field;
Pine trees covered with softness.
A bird sings lightly.

Stuck in a snow bank
A child's pink automobile.
Who will pull it out?

Many "Posted" signs
Hammered hard on many trees.
The wire fence makes sure.

Soup box on the road
Lies crushed from many car wheels.
Where are the tasters?

They bow in the sun
The pine trees of the forest
Dripping sparkling light.

Sun cuts through the mist
Making shadows and light beams.
Illumination.

Squirrel leaps across road,
Then bounds into the forest;
And twitches its tail.

A gray green morning;
Birds chirp subdued out of sight.
Whiff of chimney smoke.

From the snow--grass tufts;
The stream is completely still;
A pause in winter.

Shimmer in my eye;
A small bird lands on a branch.
Breath of silence.

Geese honk high above
Breaking the morning stillness
And splitting the sky.

The pale white birch tree
Seems to grow out of the snow.
Its winter costume.

The sun is pleasant;
Blue sky, white snow and warm breeze.
What a nice surprise!

The stream is quiet
Trickling through the snow banks.
Lazy winter morn.

In the snowy woods
The deep echo of the wind.
On the road--silence.

The old black plow stands
Snow covered and next to the barn.
Will it work again?

Brown leaves green needles;
The old branch leans on the pine.
Past with forever.

How blue the sky is;
How white the blanket of snow;
How green the pine trees.

Brown on brown on brown:
Shopping bag lies in the woods.
Perfect camouflage.

They are glistening:
The wires of the fenced in woods.
The sun trespasses.


A sun drenched snow field;
Shadows fall on the cold white.
Dogs bark all around.

Shadow on the road:
It stands as still as I stand.
Just who could it be?

The old holy tree;
It does not know that it is dead.
The woodpeckers do.

Broken ornaments
Lie snowbound near the mailbox.
Past Christmas message.

High on the snow bank
Old black dog sits in the sun.
Is it warm enough?

Frosted white grasses
Stand up from the white snow field.
A winter garden.

A gray and blue sky;
Hollow wind across the white.
A winter's palette.

White flakes fill the sky;
They fall in persistent lines
And don't make a sound.

The white flakes subside;
Cat huddles near the window
Hoping for some house warmth.

Rock ledge in the woods
Sits high on the snowy hill;
Behind it--the sky.

A brown leaf falls
From a snapping snowy limb.
Survivor of Fall.

Wires cut the sky
And intersect with others.
Electric heaven.

It's winter again;
The snow layers the landscape
Falling still whiteness.

Footprints and dog prints
The snow tells a history
And lets it vanish.

Silently they float--
Countless million snow flakes.
Silently they land.

I walk on whiteness;
Around me all is silent.
Am I in a dream?

The snow plow rumbles,
Churning away the white snow
And leaves a gas fart.

How balmy it is;
Sheets of ice are melting.
Strange January.

The stream is lazy;
It whispers in the warm sun.
The ice is all gone.

Tweety, tweety, tweet--
The bird thinks Spring is here.
Much winter remains.

Woods are still today;
Snow patches belie the sun.
What season is this?

Somewhere there's a stream;
It whispers from the deep woods.
I cannot see it.

Brown on brown on brown:
Shopping bag lies in the woods.
Perfect camouflage.

Crow caws in the sky;
A heating truck whooshes by.
The stench of cities.

Translucent in sun
Thick icicle keeps its shape.
Meeting of seasons.

The rain is all gone;
White and blue are the colors.
It's winter again.

Above the swift stream
A crystal icicle hangs
Touching the water.

First the trees hum loud;
Then wind bursts across the road
Swiftly disappears.

The bushes flutter;
Small birds dance in the branches;
The cold wind whispers.

The trees are so still;
All is quiet but the wind
And the tinkling stream.

Sun/ice all around
The flood rains have subsided
Leaving the winter.

Rains have swept the snow
Engorged streams flow endlessly;
Always the water.

On the left snow banks;
On the right the murmuring stream.
Ahead is the sun.

The ancient tree limb
Still attached propped up and sawed
Refuses to die.

Black cat on a rock
Catches rays of winter sun
Sits still as a stone.

Illuminated
Baby pine glows in the sun:
Glowing green needles.

Pine against the sky
Green on blue and gray on white,
A winter palette.

Nest high in the tree;
Now exposed for all to see.
The birds are long gone.

Faded pink toy car
Left and now covered with snow.
The child is gone too.

Woods are soft today
Water glistens on the ice;
Sun sprinkles the snow.

The two doggy friends
Sniff happily on the road;
Then stop and watch me.

Sun blasts through the trees;
Shadows spring up on the road.
The gray snow turns white.

Shadows on the snow;
White plane streaks in the blue sky;
A dappled morning.

Gray mist descending
Even the snow is off white.
Wetness in the wind.

Are the trees praying?
They lift their stark bare branches
Appealing to the sky.

Power lines/tree limbs
Make cross hatches in the air.
The gray world stands still.

Snow on the tree's crotch
Sits on a patch of green moss;
A high winter throne.

Brown leaves still hanging;
But the woods are full of snow.
Echo or portent?

Brown patches on white;
Dead leaves and earth peek through snow.
January thaw.

High in the bare tree
A lone leaf against the sky
Challenges the wind.

12/25/2005
Glistening road unfurls;
Mist shrouds the trees and snow.
Rainy soft Christmas.

01/06/2006
I smell the white snow;
Two red barns color the road.
Gray clouds float above.

A solid blank field;
The dark stream cuts through the white ;
Unseen plane above.

Grayness on whiteness;
The clouds touch the fields of snow.
Am I in a dream?

Still fork in the road
Nothing's moving either way.
Only my boots sound.

Against the gray slush
A Coke can leans and glistens.
A trashed ornament.

A web of branches:
Tree limbs in the snowy woods.
The gray sky peeps through.

Dog barks far away
Crow caws beyond the clouds.
Unseen serenade.

Specks of white float down;
They dance in the morning sun.
Passing snow flurry.

Wind across the field
Picks up the cold of the snow
And roars in my ear.

One white speck of snow
Disappears into the road.
Now there are others.

Swiftly sunlight flees;
Suddenly everything's gray.
Then poof! Sun is back.

My feet crunch the ice
Then they squoosh the softer snow.
Winter percussion.

Now they're on the porch--
The two grizzled old black dogs;
Always together.

Specks in the sunlight,
Snow flakes driven by the snow.
They're racing nowhere.

Now they are sleeping
Their gray muzzles snout to snout.
The two old dog friends.

Clean bridge of ice
Across the racing waters.
A December stream.

The sunlight is fresh;
It washes the white snow field
And paints the red barn.

On the soft snow lawn
The schnauzer lies and watches;
A brown teddy bear.

The wind is hollow;
It echoes around my ears,
Then it disappears.

Stream is iced over,
Snow covers the dark waters.
Do they flow under?

Bells hang from mailbox:
Shiny green and bright silver.
A Yuletide posting

Straight lines on the snow;
Here a square, there triangle.
Sun's geometry.

The road glistens wet;
Square sign shade on the snow.
The sun is playing.

Bright light on the snow;
Trees cast their shadows starkly.
Car sounds far away.


The stream is quiet;
Faint rippling under the ice.
A distant tinkle.


High on the snow hill
Two black dogs sit in the sun,
Still, part of the woods.


The woods seem endless;
Stark tree shadows on the snow;
All life is muted.


The white hill is steep;
It ripples the woods higher;
At the top: blue sky.


Sky is clear, cold, blue;
The sun broadcasts the shadows.
It's supposed to rain.

Chickens watch the snow;
They see the slanting white lines
From the dark barn door.

Tree limbs are frosted;
The stream winds through the white banks.
Snow falls silently.

Bright sunny morning;
A crisp wind blows in my face.
Somewhere a hammer.

Sun light on the stream
Sparkling the rushing waters.
I grumble aloud.

Ladder in the woods
Lying flat on the brown leaves,
Too tired to stand up.

Car sound in the wind;
Then the car races past me
Leaving just the wind.

Tree limb bends over;
Gnarled branch above the ground.
Ancient canopy.

Spring colors long gone;
Now there are brown shades and green.
A muted rainbow.

Up the sharp steep hill
Mother jogs behind her pram.
Baby sleeps inside.

Faint whiff of a skunk
Drifts from nobody knows where.
Ghost of a fear past.

There's frost on the grass;
There's thin ice near the still stream.
First of December.

Bare bushes rustle;
Ten tiny birds scoot around
Then whoosh to a tree.

The stream flows softly
And tinkles by the road side.
I see a black ghost.

Sun spreads on the fields
Slowly emerging from the clouds,
Like a second dawn.

The trees are bare now
Revealing hidden houses.
Winter strips the veils.

Black dog trots ahead;
He's taking his morning walk.
I follow behind.

A loud whining buzz:
The house takes on a new face.
The smell of cut wood.

Grizzled gray dog barks;
Young black Lab stops in his tracks.
Mexican stand off.

Shadows on the road;
Wind hums softly in my ears.
Then a gray cloud comes.

The woods are humming;
The wind plays between the trees;
The leaves are racing.

The three mailboxes
Stand side by side--one open
Like a hungry mouth.

The stream is rushing,
Moist flower smells fill the air.
Is this November?

Streams rush everywhere;
Here a pond, there a river;
Relentless water.

Who shot this raccoon
Left it to die in the woods.
A strange kind of sport.

Water sounds abound
By the road and in the woods.
Late November's flow.

A frog in the road
Doesn't move when I touch it;
Cold, wet and confused.

The stream rushes down
Brushing away the dead leaves;
A roadside torrent.

Crushed worm on the road
Twists and turns and twists again;
Can't extract itself.

It's damp, wet and gray;
The snow disappears into the fog.
I can't see the field

Ghost trees touch the sky;
Yellow car lights cut the fog.
The stream still burbles.

There is no sun now,
Only the soft endless fog
And the gray silence.

The raccoon is still;
No longer does it whimper.
It's part of the ground.

Two trees together
Their branches are intertwined
Like old wooden friends.

In the beat up house
Colored things scurry about.
The t.v. is on.

Crow calls in the fog;
It is nowhere to be seen.
There is just its cry.

It's noon in morning;
Thick fog hides the time of day.
Snow man is melting.

Dark water's ribbon
Snakes through white snow in the woods.
You can just hear it.

A splash of red leaves
Bursts out against the snow field;
Then a splash of sun.

The bright yellow sign:
"Posted: No Hunting, Fishing"
Against the white snow.

A whimpering sound;
Raccoon lies in the cold snow
Crying out his life.

On the cool white snow
Raccoon lies crying, dying;
Near him a small red blotch.

Snow man in the field;
A car splushes on the road.
First snow of the year.

Everyone is gone;
No sound or sight of people;
Woods on Thanksgiving.

Stubborn small flowers
Bend under the weight of snow;
They don't know it's time.

The old jeep passes;
A gust of gas fumes lingers.
Faint child memories.

The old washer waits;
Another scrubless winter.
Snow flakes cover it.

The old black Lab stares
Then turns and sits on the snow;
We know each other.

The bushes are bare
Save for strings of red berries;
Bird rustles inside.

A tiny white moth
Flickering across the road
Follows its shadow.

A child's blue knit cap
Lies on top of the dry leaves.
Where is its owner?

The sun strokes my face;
A lone crow chortles sharply;
Lazy brown leaves lie.

Old Marlboro case;
Soggy beer bottle carton.
Humans trash the woods.

Sun is cold today;
Wind rushes in empty woods.
Ouch! My big toe hurts.

Green ribbon is waving
Hanging from the bare tree branch.
Damn! It's cold out!

Crisp autumn morning;
Broccoli trees face the sky;
Crow barks far away.

Chickens cluck and peck;
Their world is the barnyard ground.
They don't see the clouds.

Geese in a gray sky:
They honk unseen through the clouds.
Wood smoke tangs the air.

Like fragile broccoli
The stripped trees reach to the sky.
Maybe they're praying.

Sniffing the dead leaves
The old black Lab ignores me
Pisses on a sign.

The woods are brown now,
Leaf blankets cover the floor
Snuggled from the snow.

Swish of jeep and van.
The air is filled with gas smell,
Then all is silent.

I check the dead leaves.
Will I find my long last pen?
Hope springs eternal.

The strong post light.
It switches on at nightfall,
Deceived by gray day.

Small white mushroom steps
Climb the standing dead tree trunk.
Soon they'll be yellow.

Soft green mullein plant
Sits among the dead brown leaves
Opening its arms.

Shiny snake of tar
Slithers down the road's center
And joins its fellows.

Slices of sunlight
Cut patterns on the brown leaves
The trees stand so still.

Pine cones on the ground
Lie in beds of brown needles.
Soon, winter's slumber.

Tiny puffs of smoke
Push out of the gray chimney:
The scent of autumn.

Warm breeze even now
With the stark trees and dead leaves.
Seasons overlap.

Head against a jar
The old black Lab lies in bliss.
His gray whiskers twitch.

A skeleton tree
Against the muted gray sky.
A leaf blower purrs.

Barking dog has stopped
I look up from my notebook.
He has turned around.

My mind is racing;
Can't think about scenery.
Where is my wallet?

A sunless stillness;
The leaves on the road don't stir;
One drifts from the sky.

Next to the bushes
Darkness on the sunless road.
Stain of a shadow?

After Halloween
Bat leaves skitter like raindrops.
Ghost clouds sweep the sky.

A soft wind's whistle
Awakens faint memories.
Brown leaves are rustling.

The schnauzer bellows;
The little basset follows suit.
They just want to play.

First dark and then light
The clouds move like passing moods.
I follow along.

The ancient phone book
Is still stuffed in the tree crotch.
Nobody's calling.

Lone purple clover
Stands on a sea of brown leaves.
How long will it last?

Soft green mullein plant
Spreads out its welcoming arms:
"Come, I will heal you."

White thorn branches bend;
The tempting berries are gone.
Now there's just prickles.

Washer in the woods
Awaits another season
But never sees clothes.

Where is my old pen?
Dropped into the dead brown leaves;
In oblivion.

High in the bare tree
A large bird's nest is revealed
No longer hidden.

Neat stack of cut logs;
Gray smoke puff from the chimney;
Spice smell of burnt wood.

Dead leaves on the tree
Still clinging to the branches.
Will they ever fall?

Four leaves on a tree;
Just a gust of wind will do;
Then the tree's bare.

Small purple flowers
Peep out from the sea of brown.
They make their last stand.

Sky and earth are still;
Something's bound to start falling.
Is it rain or snow?

Last leaf on a branch:
Will not be there tomorrow.
Just a puff of wind.

The grizzled black dog
Looks up and gives me a glance.
We are silent friends.

Lost in the brown leaves
My small silver bullet pen.
It's gone forever.

Leaves are skittering;
They dance in the cool sunlight,
Then one slaps my mouth.

Leaf slides to the ground,
Gently, slowly it descends.
Then, a burst of wind.

A bright glistening:
Something sparkles on dead leaves.
Ah, it's a beer can.

Spice smell of dead leaves;
The sun paints the trees yellow.
Chickens are clucking.

Burbling, whispering,
The stream races through the woods;
Where is it going?

The trees are naked;
Now deep woods are visible.
Still, there's mystery.

The marsh is still green;
Nearby, leaves float from the trees.
Two worlds, side by side.

Brightly glowing tree;
The sun illumines the leaves.
A breeze sprinkles them.

The leaves are sailing.
They float through the air like kites
And rest on the road.

The woods are silent;
Then a throbbing van passes:
Stench of tobacco.

Carpet of brown leaves.
The deep woods are undressing.
I can see farther.

A high rasping hum;
The chains saw cuts through the air.
A whiff of wood smoke.

A pile of brown leaves.
Through trees I see mountain tops.
The view is longer.

The faded red barn;
Pale moon in the cool blue sky;
Autumn is waking.

Cluster of bare trees;
Almost all the leaves are gone.
Shadows on the road.

A puff of yellow:
The maple lights up the road.
The air is spicy.

Black dogs on brown leaves:
They lift their heads and bellow,
Then plop back to sleep.

Tiny blue flowers
Wilt and droop in the chill air,
But yellow persists.

Shining milk weed pods
Hang full in the autumn air.
Their time will be soon.

The woods are mottled now;
Yellow leaves and brown carpet;
Patches of sunligh

Glowing blue asters
Amidst jewel weed, Queen Anne's lace.
The bee has a feast.

Still and suspended
A dragonfly on a twig.
Then it zooms upward.

The sun hits my face;
In the bushes crickets chirp;
A caressing breeze.

I kick the brown leaves;
They rasp dryly on the road.
Only a few now.

Leaf floats to the ground;
The woods are carpeted brown;
From this year or last?

A warm gust of breeze;
A rain of leaves flutters down.
Brown is mixed with green.

Goats in the barn door
Braying in the morning sun.
Butterflies flutter.

The field is mowed now.
Green and brown mix on the hill.
The air is pungent.

Above seagull cries;
The bird is far from the sea.
Is it really lost?

I sit on a rock
A bug buzzes near my ear;
Sun and breeze kiss me.

Swaying feathered ferns
Cluster together on a hill.
Below: plastic bag.

Between the two trees
Three spider webs hang like nets;
Now they catch the sun.

Yellow goldenrod
Waves gently in the sunlight;
The field is brightened.

Not all trees are green;
Yellow leaves catch the sunlight.
A brown one falls down.

A paper doll lies
Staring up at the blue sky
Surrounded by grass.

Cobwebs in the grass
Sparkle in the morning sun
Catching the dew drops.

Table saw buzzes
Cutting through the morning light
Then even that fades.

A car purrs softly;
Overhead a plane drones on.
Then, just the cricket.

A red car roars past;
Brown leaves scatter in the road;
Frog plops into grass.

Hollow shots echo;
A leaf shudders to the ground.
There's no connection.

Leaves shine in the shade;
The sun has not yet reached them.
Soon they will be dry.

Brown leaf floats slowly;
A bird calls from the treetop;
Bug buzzes in my ear.

A big gray horsefly
Sits in the shade of the road.
I leave it alone.

Startled bird rises
Fills the air with fluttered sounds.
Then stillness again.

Black dog in shadows
Lies down merging with darkness.
Anonymous peace.

Leaf congregation
Gathered on the sunny road.
Butterfly shadows.

Where do the woods end?
Green and dark go on and on.
A woodpecker pecks.

Brown leaf on the road
Lost among the dark shadows.
Wait! There's another.

Hoo Hoo Hoo Krek Krek
Birds talk in the morning sun.
Squished rabbit on road.

Dove on a phone wire
Sees me and flutters away.
A fat van roars by.

Birds call far away;
Bees humming break the silence;
Bugs dart in the sun.

Web between two trees
Catches the morning dew drops.
A gossamer net.

Green briar bushes
Guard the entrance to the woods.
Just go around them.

Woods smell moist and rich;
Shadows compete with sun
And find silent truce.

Insects are humming;
A cricket rushes madly.
Watch out for the truck.

Pop. Pop. The white ball
Clicks across the green table.
Outdoor ping pong game.

The silent sun falls;
Woods, road, sky--all are quiet.
Just my mind chatters.

Sparkle of orange:
Jewel weed plants dot the roadside.
Guardians of Fall.

Soft light in the woods;
Leaves catch the falling sun beams
And drop the shadows.

Happy crickets chirp;
Shadows fall upon the road.
Sun is warm and soft.

Leaves are shimmering;
Gently the sun shines through them.
A lone bird twitters.

How quiet is the woods;
Sun patches fall silently.
Chain saw rips through it.

Sun bright in green fields;
Stalks of yellow radiate.
Goldenrod again.

Road shadows quiver;
Warm breeze shakes the sunlit trees.
Leaves skitter and slide.

Noiseless butterfly
Flutters over the still lawn;
Flowers sway in breeze.

Weaving wire fence;
Twists glistening through the woods.
A gated forest.

Trees touch overhead;
Below, the road is cool, dark.
A moment's relief.

Worm crosses the road;
It wriggles in the sunlight.
Will it get across?

Zebra grasshopper
Flies above the shadowed road.
Sure sign of Autumn.

Tiny pine tree sways;
The sun glistens each needle.
Beer bottle on ground.

The woods seem endless;
Sun and shade pattern the ground.
One leaf floats downward.

The smell of warm grass;
A light breeze tosses my hair.
Nearby, hammer pounds.

Now there is a breeze;
Sunlit leaves tremble softly.
Which one will fall first?

Light climbs the mountain;
Sun patches light up the woods.
A ringing stillness.

A Queen Anne's lace plant
With hundreds of small flowers
Smiles at the sun.

Tree stump in the woods
Surrounded by baby pines.
Soon it will be gone.

A white butterfly
Alights on a white flower;
Both bathed in sunlight.

A blue dragonfly
Flutters between the shadows.
A crow calls three times.

Deep and dappled woods;
Sun illuminates the leaves;
There is just silence.

Everything is still;
Even the stream is quiet.
Startled quail flutters.


Light blue chicory
Sprinkles the edge of the road;
Nearby cricket chirps.

SEPTEMBER 5, 2005

It has been over two months since I have walked Yerry Hill Road. As probably the only person who leaves Woodstock for the chicken farm country of southern New Jersey every summer, I miss the months of July and August here in Woodstock.

But now I am back on the road again. The season is changing and so are the sights along the road. And so are the haiku.

For all of you millions of readers out there. Or for the one or two of you who may have stumbled onto this site. I leave Yerry Hill for two months for the flatlands of southern New Jersey. So here is my last post until the end of August. Happy summer to all!


First clouds and then light,
Gentle breeze brings back the sun.
Butterfly flutters.

Red and orange splash:
Bright colors on the gray road.
Squashed butterfly.

The stream is chortling
Racing headlong to the woods.
It is darker there.

How still the woods are,
Not even a wind's whisper.
Only my breathing.

Sleek Mercedes turns
And drives past its fenced in woods,
Secure from all life.

The sky is gray now;
The grass scented breeze is cool;
Look! Patches of sun.

Incessant chirping,
Unseen bird chatters madly.
Chain saw buzzes alive.

Burst of blue flowers;
Beige mushrooms on dead tree trunks;
Gnats fly in my eyes.

Dandelion puffs
Stand lightly in a circle
Nodding fuzzy heads.

A breeze touches me;
Birds sing and the sun is soft.
A power line hums.

It's a soft morning;
Shadows lie across the road.
A tree sways gently.

White puffs from the sky:
Seed pods fall swiftly downward
To the hard gray road.

Crumpled near the road
Rusty sign covered by green:
"This land is for sale".

Washer in the woods
Survived another winter.
Doesn't look so old.

In the sky one cloud.
It peeks through the tree branches.
A distant plane hums.

Gay puffs of yellow
Soak the sun and light the fields.
They bow in the breeze.

Long, slow line of cars:
A funeral procession.
In one, a friend waves.

Blue blooms in the shade
Add mystery to the woods;
Bird melts into them.

Delicate petals,
Small white flowers grace the road.
Loud sound in the woods!

The leaves are still now;
Sun's rays glow softly through them.
Now they are dancing.

The wind is hollow;
It whispers through the forest
And trembles the leaves.

Lilacs are shaking;
They share their sweet purple smell
With no thought of thanks.

The old brown dog sniffs;
He sees me and runs away,
But comes back to sniff.

The old dog trots by,
Glances at me and goes on.
Two May travelers.

A fence in the woods;
Wire mesh weaves through the forest.
The jailed trees peek out.

White puffs stream past me:
Dandelion seeds en route.
Hurry up and plant!

Sun filters and glows
Through trees, bushes, leaves and grass.
Million shades of green.

The road is so still;
Daffodils nod lazily;
A bee buzzes past.

Dark clouds, bright shadows;
A second between two worlds.
Then, no more shadows.

Now the world is dark,
Puffy clouds blot out the sun.
Peepers sing with joy.

On the mountain top
The sun paints the trees with light.
The road is still dim.

It's a yellow time:
Forsythia, dandelions,
And the sun's paintbrush.

Hypnotized robin
Sits at the side of the road,
Sees me, waits and flies.

Forsythia buds
Reach out, yellow, sleek and small.
Sunday's sun is soft.

Sun touches the trees;
Owl hoots softly far away;
Soft April morning.

Building in the woods,
Hammer sounds and cut wood smell;
Then stillness again.

A warm sunny haze
Casts soft shadows on the ground.
All thoughts disappear.

The yellow dog barks,
Waking from his sunny nap;
Then plops down again.

Stream bubbles softly
A breeze whispers in my ear;
A hidden bird sings.

The rooster's crowing;
Goat stands in the sunlit door.
Hen struts in background.

Long morning shadow;
The sun creeps up behind me.
Will it overtake?

Red buds on tree tops
Lit by sun they face the sky
Waiting to burst forth.

One calls, one answers.
Two birds singing in the woods;
A morning duet.

Buds are opening;
The soft sunlight touches them;
A bird sings non stop.

Dozing in sunshine
The sleeping dog jerks awake.
Vigilant, he stares.

Bird sounds fill the air;
The field has a touch of green.
A happy frog croaks.

Lightly the bird darts;
Hops from tree trunk to tree trunk
And peeks out at me.

Brown sphere in the woods;
The sun shines on its roundness.
Is it a puffball?

Small carpet of green;
Tiny forest in the woods:
Miniature pine trees

Young pine tree shimmers;
Sun filters through its needles;
Morning glistening.

There are two forests--
Left side: sun splashed and speckled;
Right side: deep and dark.

A song bird greets me;
Other birds chirp in the trees.
Sun paints the bushes.

Sun light is changed now.
It kisses the road and trees
And licks the shadows.

The woods are quiet;
Sun-mottled green and shadows.
There's a beer bottle.

Stranger approaches
Smiling in the morning sun.
Above, two geese honk.

The woods seem deeper;
Sun sculptures and rounds the trees.
Dimensions of Spring.

Torn bag near the road;
Twisted plastic on stream bed.
Look! It's labelled "...EARS"

Birds sing on all sides;
The air is cold, bright and clear;
The dog barks again.

The young squirrel watches;
It sits still with twitching tail
And then scoots away.

Stone walls in the woods
Almost touch another.
What do they enclose?

Little yellow buds
Bow their heads as if in sleep;
Waiting for the sunshine.

Two dogs in the woods
Rest for a while on a rock.
Old friends exploring.

Old leaf on the road;
Shadow sharp against the sun.
No breeze disturbs it.

The green pine tree glows;
Shadows hide in its branches;
Faint shouts of children.

Robin hops then stops;
It pecks at the sunny ground;
Far away dog barks

The shadows are soft;
They play with the forest sunshine
Green and brown mottled.

Rooster crows proudly;
Sun answers with warm kisses;
Easy work for both.

In the shale: green leaves;
They push out to greet the sun.
White moth flickers by.

Brown leaves are shining;
Sun's rays splash the forest floor.
A chain saw buzzes.

Water is hollow;
Today the stream drinks itself
And burps happily.

The woods are dappled;
Sunlight splashes on brown leaves;
Faint breeze stirs the air.

The shadows are stark;
Web like tree limbs frame the sky.
Birds call from all sides.

The fat crow swaggers;
He walks on a sunny patch
Sees me and takes off.

At the branches' tips
Small bumped buds start to emerge.
They blink green at Spring.

Tiny white flowers:
A cluster on the brown leaves.
There's a butterfly.

Sun filters through green;
The young pine needles glisten.
The woods are silent

The two old dogs rest;
Side by side they soak the sun.
They won't be disturbed.

Warm scented dusk breeze;
Rain full sky is darkening;
Hear the peeper frogs.

Still a patch of snow;
The air is warm and scented.
The sun is hidden.

Soon the rain will fall;
The sky is pregnant and gray.
The warm air is still.

The pink shuttered house;
In windows old lace doilies.
Faded fairyland.

A wrecked "For Sale" sign
Sits on a filthy snow mound.
Both on their way out.

Small blotch on the road;
The body still and crimson.
The first dead red eft.

Small yellow splashes;
They peek from under dead leaves.
First dandelions.

Ahead something waves;
I perk up. Who could it be?
Oh, it's just that flag.

The stream flows gently;
Birds call in the hollow air.
Woodpecker hammers.

Sun breaks through the clouds;
The wind echoes in my ears.
Above a hawk glides.

The sun disappears;
A chilly grayness descends.
The loud stream rushes.

Rustle of the wind;
Fir trees bend and sway gently.
Distant stream rushes.

The wind is rushing;
The lazy brook winds slowly;
The crows keep calling

Small cross in the woods;
It stands on a pile of stones.
What lies beneath it?

The sun hides again;
On the streams are flat mirrors;
Snow patches are dim.

Three birds on a branch;
They sit still against the sky.
Then poof! Off they fly.

Gray clouds migrating;
They leave behind a blue sky.
Hawk sails on the wind.

Mist is all around
Touching tree tops and mountains.
In grayness birds sing.

The woods are silent;
Not a breeze stirs the branches.
Crow caws far away.

The mist is lifting;
Ahead the road is sunny.
Then it's gray again.

There's snow down the glen;
The thick bare trees keep the shade.
Soon that, too, will pass.

Sun splashes the woods;
Brown leaves shimmer and glisten.
Sharp tree shadows fall.

Green ferns are peeking;
They hang over the stream bed
Thirsty for water.