Light breaks through the mist;
Four goats enjoy the sunshine;
Shadows reappear.

Greedy water plant
Drinks deep from the running stream;
Its thirst is unslaking.




Working at his job
Woodpecker hammers away.
Lawn mower revs up.

Four honking wild geese
Silhouetted against sky
Make such a racket.

Timidly walking
She rushes in front of me--
Endless gulf between.

Small yellow flower
Pops up to greet the sunshine
From its bed of leaves.

On edge of the cliff
Roots of the dead tree still hold;
Death clinging to life.

A tender green sprout
Grows next to the giant tree
Dreaming its future.


Hopeful tufts of chives;
Soon they will disappear--
Purr of lawn mower.

Rustle in the bush--
Birds in the forsythia
Can't match its brilliance.

Poking through dead leaves
Purple flowers rear their heads.
Where did they come from?

The little Basset
Pokes its nose between the fence.
(It's always nose first).

Road is a mirror;
The spring rain has stopped for now;
Birds chirp joyously.

Sky is one big cloud
Embracing all in blue/gray,
Silhouetting trees.

Gentle falling mist
Kisses my face and eyebrows;
Whisper of wetness.


Shining mud puddles
Reflect the towering trees
And bring them to earth.

First red eft of spring
Stunned by the cold and vast road
Pauses to take stock.

The ghostly mountain
Hides behind a veil of mist.
Is it really there?

Lightly on a branch
A dove looks this way and that;
Graceful silhouette.

Softly plush and green
Moss cushions the ancient rock.
A fairy's pillow.









Black wires, spider trees,
Silhouettes cut through the sky.
Morning of starkness.

Lump on a tree limb:
Fat bird sits on a bare limb
Then flutters away.

Sun filters through clouds,
Soft shadows fall on the road;
Distant furnace hums.

A cluster of trees,
One with moss, one with lichen
Unlike each other.

Riot of yellow--
Forsythia trumpets spring;
Birds soars out of bush.

Dark field guardians
Sit like statues on the grass.
When I stop, they growl.

Broken rotten stump
Covered with moss and lichen;
Now green rules the day.

Stone wall far below
Divides long forgotten claims,
Wanders aimlessly.

A fright of yellow
Standing spiky and alarmed--
Forsythia's here!

Yellow bursts--slate gray,
Dull day with forsythia;
Birds hoot and dogs bark.




Everything seems distant:
Bird trills, stream bubble, plane hum,
And the deep gray sky.

Faded pink ribbon
Hangs from the green leaved bush branch--
A distant glory.




Moss, leaves and ivy;
A myriad of green shades
Paint the forest floor.

A quiet grayness
Settles on the road and woods;
Rain is in suspense.

The two old beer cans
Lie in the woods head to head
Bemoaning their fate.

Chatter in the woods;
All talking at the same time--
Bird cacophony.

Fierce animal glares
Poised still among the dead leaves.
Oh! It's a tree stump.

It's the third season--
Phone book's still in the tree's crotch.
Still, nobody calls.

Thick gray hanging bells--
Shelf fungus on the old tree;
Steps for tiny birds.

Rooster crows again
Sharp shadows on old barn wall;
Even clouds welcome.

Robin on bare branch
Sits as quiet as a stone.
Nearby stream rumbles.

Small yellow/green buds
Poke out along the bare branch--
Forsythia birth.

The old charred tree trunk
Stands next to its fallen limb--
Ancient lightening strike.

Ornament is back,
Hanging bright from the mailbox.
Christmas in April.

Small pines guard the path,
Just a whisper of a trail
That's going nowhere.

Small yellow flowers
Poke out from the dead brown leaves.
Daisies smile at spring.

Sun sparkled water
Trickles down musically.
Another spring voice.

White pickup speeds by;
White husky stands in the back
Looking bewildered.

Black spots on the slate:
Raindrops in the warm spring air;
A welcoming breeze.

There are three dogs now;
New dog jumps, barks, runs at me;
She's just visiting.

Main color is brown;
Dead leaves blanket the forest.
Little bursts of green.

Snow shovel face down;
Basketball lies further on.
What was and will be.

Light rain is falling,
Swiftly on the road and snow
Ticking and tapping.

A swooping cardinal
Glides swiftly across the road
And into the woods.

Thick white smoke ahead
Pours from the old house chimney.
Is there a new Pope?

Rings in the puddles;
Rain drops ping on the surface
Exploding circles.

Slim, straight, green clusters
Stand together--some drooping;
The first chives of spring.

A cry in the woods
Sounds like maniacal child.
What creature is this?

Fresh snow on the ground;
Sky is ready to disgorge;
A wacky April.

Like a brown fur rug
Schnauzer curls up on the ground
Deep in doggy sleep.

Broken old wood fence;
Bottom rung lies on the ground,
Still good for leaning.

A few random flakes
Floating, spinning through the air
As if they are lost.

Mud puddles in snow--
Two seasons overlapping.
Permeable time.

Old dog on the road
Sits down, waits for me to pass;
We eye each other.

Two old black sphinxes
Sit side by side near the house--
Guard its mysteries.

A small pile of snow
Looks like curled up kid's white doll
Simply cast away.

Barn cat in the field
Stalks, black and white against brown;
Silly camouflage.

Forsythia stubs
Cut to clear the way for cars:
Slow nature/fast cars.

Blue and white ribbon
Hangs delicately from branch:
Surveyor's imprint.

It is cold today;
Wind and sun chase each other;
It's hard to find snow.

The last piles of snow
Stand around the fenced in woods:
"Posted: No Sunlight!"

How fast the sun flees
Leaving the world cold and gray.
Old black dog looks up.

Faint shadows below
Where the road begins to bend
Swiftly fade away.

Black dogs in the woods
Exploring the burgeoning smells
Eye me warily.

Small flat metal bell
Nailed to the old wooden pole;
Thoughts of old Ma Bell.

Brown rotten tree stump
Stands in front of rotten trunk
Next to firm stone wall.

Rushing stream rises
Shaking hanging ice finger.
How long will it last?

Time for gloves again;
Sun and clouds play hide and seek;
The wind ignores both.

How plain the field is:
Rolling brown grass and the wind
With gray sky above.

Sun breaks through the clouds
Bringing the hope of spring birth.
It's Easter Sunday.

Puddles have frozen;
Forest stands at winter's door.
Snow piles still clutter.

The whispering wind
Repeats its frozen message:
"Know! Know! Know! I'm here!"

Solitary flake
Floats aimlessly to the ground.
Now there are others.

Two puffing joggers
Strain as they run up the hill.
Do you call that fun?

"Ahead Stop Bus School"
The sign is turned upside down;
Is the bus also?

Cluster of pale turds
Lie together off the road.
They've survived winter.

Now the sun is out
Transforming winter to spring
In just an instant.

Snow flake in the sun
Lands on the page and then melts--
Very short life span.

Pup twirls in window
His yips muffled by the glass.
Is he nuts or what?

White frost on the ground;
Nervous bird chirps and flutters;
Chill wind swirls around.

The shadows are dull;
Sun seems half hearted today.
What's it waiting for?

Roadside snow hangs on;
Frozen patches here and there.
Will it ever melt?

Today woods look deep;
Bare trees go on forever
In shadows and light.

Narrow old dirt road
Twists and bends into the woods
Where it joins the trees.

Dark shadow on bush
Looks like one more sumac bud.
Then it flies away.

My doggy friends bark;
They do not recognize me.
Am I different?

Each smiling, we pass
Beaming on the day's wonder--
Great to be alive.

Clear fingers of ice
Hang over the rushing stream.
Today, water rules.

Puddles in the field--
Yesterday's rain stays around
In the bright sun.

Fenced in bright white goose
Even brighter in the sun;
Rooster crows next door.

Tardy wood stove starts--
Smells like paper not like wood;
Winter is still here.

A saucy robin
Hops on the bush next to me;
It's fearless hunger.

Woods look like marsh land,
Dappled with pools of water;
Near unmelted snow.

Green haze in the woods--
Sun illumines grass and moss:
Harbingers of spring.

Beer can in the bush
Trapped, flung from a speeding car;
Nature's prisoner.

Beer bottle on hill
Must have taken a great throw
From misguided jock.

Brown U.P.S. truck
Lumbars down the old dirt road;
April Santa Claus.

White sign on a tree
Visible deep in the woods;
Just what could it say?

A dead splattered frog
In the middle of the road--
Early on all counts.

Return feels warmer;
Is it direction, time, wind
Or just coming home?

Same bend in the road;
Same mystery around it;
Some things never change.

Phantom on the tree;
Road breaks open like an egg--
Oh. It's April Fool.

Trees and road are still;
Only the stream sparkles move.
Earth takes a deep breath.

Shadow crosses road
Stealthily and silently
And then just lies there.

Shadows rule just now,
Crisscrossing the road and woods,
Dappling the bushes.

A few snow patches
Lie near the side of the road
Gray and soot covered.

Red sign on the tree:
"Private. Do Not Enter Here."
The squirrel ignores it.

Light through the brown leaves
Infuses an eerie glow;
Echoes of last spring.

Old dog lifts his head,
Looks at me and plops back down;
Used to growl and bark.

Ancient dead brown log
Disintegrating slowly,
Rejoining the earth.

Cool air and bright sun;
Clean spring smell is all around.
Still there are snow banks.

Dove sits on a wire,
Framed against the clouds and sky
Flutters and takes off.

Is this the same field
Recently covered with white?
Not a trace remains.

Bottles, cans, paper--
Spring rain's uncovered the rubbish:
Human detritus.

Rusty table, chair
Are huddled deep in the woods;
Ancient tea party.

Open garbage can
Freed of its collected crap
Breathes a silent sigh.

Pickup truck drives by;
He does not return my wave.
"Fuck you, too, Charlie!"

Drumming in the woods
Sounds like beating on trash cans;
Just a woodpecker.

Snow still in the woods
Protected by the pine trees;
Sun will soon prevail.

Discarded fruit jar--
Excuse me while I throw up.
Pigs can be people.

Squirrel poised on the lawn
Maybe thinks it's a statue.
Whoops! Where did it go?

Four chunky brown turds
Wait on the side of the road
For the unaware.

Snow as memory:
Patches lie hither and yon.
It's almost April.

Like two school children
Couple slips into the woods.
They're smiling shyly.

Far into the woods
Some snow patches still remain
Surrounded by bird cries.

Dead tree on the ground;
Its bare limbs reach towards the sky.
That will do no good.

The wire fenced in woods--
Snow seems deeper around it.
Not ready for spring.

Small birds on the rocks--
Not a drink but a picture.
They peck frantically.

Dead leaves climb the hill
Blown by the gentle wind's gust.
Then they tumble down.

Squirrel tumbles in the sun
Flicking his way to the tree;
Then twitches around it.

Shadows splash the road;
Thin bare tree limbs shine like webs.
I unzip my coat.

Robin flies to branch,
Waits patiently 'til I leave,
Then back to the ground.

Snow has receded
Exposing the old beer cans.
They have no season.

Dirt path is clear now;
Bright shadows speckle the road;
Electric wire hums.

Treacherous ice patch
Lies in the bend of the road;
Winter's last surprise.

Dark streams take over,
Rushing, gushing, whispering;
Snow banks melt away.

Still pools of water
Scattered among the pine trees:
Mirrors in the woods.

Mixed chorus of geese
Passes noisily above;
They're not to be seen.

One tall grass pops up;
Small bird flies into the sun
Using its springboard.

Sun on soaking leaves;
Roadside stream tinkles softly
Throwing off sparkles.

Window dog is out
Bouncing, yipping on the snow.
World is much too large.

Two yellow cat eyes
Stare from the living room window:
Stella's honor place.

Brown patches appear;
Snow banks recede in the warmth.
The earth is released.

Gray melting ice patch
Encroaches on the snow field;
Soon all will be wet.

Streams branch and rejoin
Cutting dark swathes in the snow
Chortling as they go.

Moist green forest moss
Glistens in a snow free patch;
Stream tinkles nearby.

Deer crosses the road;
We stop, stare at each other,
Then we continue.

Roadside snow is gray
Splashed with gravel and dirt.
The earth advances.

Two cans one bottle
Huddle together like friends
In a hostile wood.

My black doggy friend
Trots to me wagging its tail
And passes right by.

Rumble under snow:
Stream rushes underneath it--
Dark hidden power.

Snow banks are melting;
Solitary bird chirps high;
Low gentle breeze blows.

Snow covers driveway;
White field right up to the house.
They are not at home.

Air is soft and sweet;
Ground is covered with whiteness;
Impatient wind blows.

Days after snow storm,
Road is a clear brown tunnel
Between dirty banks.

Fallen icicles
Stick downward next to the rock.
Winter's stalagmites.

My dog friends are gone;
Their tracks run high up the hill
And then disappear.

Car buried in snow
Stands next to the plowed driveway.
Soon Spring will free it.

Light breaks through the clouds;
Sky is shifting shades of blue.
Old sheep walks slowly.

Disappearing snow;
Field is soggy, blotched, slushy.
Winter's crisp is gone.

Loud stream rushes on,
Dark between the slushed snow bank.
No ice blocks its way.

Shadows on the road
Fall softly from hidden sun,
Vanish like fairies.

Two loud woodpeckers
Greet each other from afar,
Hammering hello's.

Two rotting tree stumps
Sit opposing each other
Like decaying friends.

Woods are brown again;
Two black dogs take their places
Sitting and sleeping.

Small dog in window
This time sleeps as I pass by.
Must be Spring fever.

Robin on snow bank
Surveys the unfolding brown,
Then lightly hops down.

Three frozen snow lines,
A robin hops along each
Following the track.

Loud chorus of geese
Follows the black swerving line.
Fading from sight/sound.

Gray surrounds--then sun;
Roosters crow to each other
Across the snow field.

Tattered two tone cloth
Flutters from the bare tree limb;
Used to be longer.

Small bird hops higher
To reach the top of the tree
Gray still silhouette.

Imprisoned forest
Seems more captive in the snow:
Steel mesh against white.

It's warm today;
Is that why crows are crying
Welcoming the Spring?

Fire siren blows
Somewhere beyond the still woods;
Then wind takes over.

Birds in the bushes
Flicker like brown/white berries.
Two old dogs just lie.

Sky is lowering;
Soon it will release itself;
Will it rain or snow?

Bare trees and dark sky;
Road slush encroaches on snow;
Ghostly rooster crows.

Cigarette in mouth,
Guy in pick up truck drives by;
Outside wind whistles.

It's frozen again;
Snow field is unmovable--
No white phantoms swirl.

A clear bridge of ice
Hangs over slowly moving stream.
All birds are quiet.

Small concrete Mary
Stands praying in the snow bank;
Just what does she ask?

Old slush is frozen;
Yesterday's ripples of water--
Today's slab of ice.

Dainty young fir trees
Stand delicate on the snow.
They'll survive winter.

Instant of sunshine
Breaking through the layer of clouds;
Squirrel on stump cocks head.

The footprints veer left
Avoiding the patch of ice.
I follow this guide.

A light frost of snow
Powders the fields and road.
Silently it falls.

Ahead the dogs bark;
My feet crunch in the snow;
The brown rooster crows.

Footprints in the snow
Turn left in the dirt driveway,
Then they disappear.

The snow covered car--
Inside the bellowing dogs
Bark at the unseen.

Tire tracks from left/right
Meet and crisscross in the road;
Memory in snow.

White tinged pine needles
Weigh a bit heavier now
In the sprinkling snow.

The yellow school bus
On the crunchy snowy road;
Inside, bundled kids.

Shy father and son
Step quietly into car
Softly as the snow.

Fluttery snow flakes
Float aimlessly through the air
Not making a sound.

Dark lines cut the white--
Stream flows through the snow bank
Winding like a snake.

Freed from the window
Small white dog bounces on snow;
Still yips his head off.

Gray skies and white flakes,
Dark patches in snowy woods:
Contrasts of winter.

Black dog sniffs black turd
On white snow under gray sky;
Then she takes a piss.

Will that damned machine
That sits in the field always
Ever do a wash?

Thoughts reflect the sky:
Gray now portending doom--
Taxes lie ahead.

Translucent ice shelves
Hang over the rushing stream;
Water on water.

Two piles of dog shit
Sit side by side in the snow--
A doggy friendship.

Blue jay on tree top
Silhouettes against the sky
A regal profile.

Sun slips behind clouds,
Then slips back and floods the road.
Shadows dance on snow.

Icy winter wind
Seems to miss the smooth snow field.
Wait! A billlowed white cloud.

Bending black tree limb
Touches a thick black tree trunk:
Shadows on the road.

The tiny fir tree
Bent over at the road's edge
Buried by snow plow.

Glisten in the road--
Water ripples on the ice
Melting and freezing.

A splash of sunshine
Melts the thin layer of ice:
Winter regression.

Movement under ice--
Ahead, everything is solid
Here the water flows.

The two cars rush past
Speeding through the melted patch--
Sploosh. Sploosh. Then Sploosh. Sploosh.

A distant whisper,
Then the wind touches my face;
The smell of wood smoke.

Gray sky and gray mood;
Car slushes up behind me,
Then slushes away.

Gray wisps of wood smoke
Dissolve into grayer sky;
Snow field is slushy.

The stream is melting;
Ice gives way to swift water;
Slight winter retreat.

The woods look soggy;
Phantom moves among the trees--
A chill up my spine.

Warm breeze over snow;
A squirrel jumps down off the roof
And sprints up a tree.

The wind is rising;
Dead leaves race across the snow;
Tree limbs bow and bend.

The clouds are mottled;
Light and gray swirl together.
Slush tracks in the snow.

Ripples in the snow:
Overflowing melting ice--
A polish of water.

A strong burst of wind;
Fir trees shake, whisper and wave.
Rumors in the woods.

Birch tree next to barn--
Sun washed white and faded red.
Flock of birds above.

The sun emerges;
Brightness bursts upon the road
Then fades back to gray.

Lady in a walkway
Stands bent over with a cane.
Will she fall forward?

There is no sun now;
Just a high blanket of clouds.
Darkness on the road.

The snow is mottled:
Animal tracked and wind blown;
Brown spider bushes.

Two trees are entwined,
One straight, other curved around
Like wooden lovers.

The last dead brown leaf
Dangles from the bare tree limb;
Will it ever fall?

Subaru drives past
Making a soft whooshing sound;
Smell of tobacco.

Flecks of bright sunlight
Sparkle gaily on the snow;
One cloud on deep blue.

A dark stream mirror
Breaks through the thick snow layer.
What does it reflect?

A basso dog barks
Followed by a yippy yip;
Gleeful bird twitters.

A rain of snow clods
Tumble from the tall fir tree
And land with a hush.

Black crow on blue sky
Hushed falling snow clods, bird chirp:
Winter media.

Sun and snow sprinkles
Falling softly through the air
Don't even whisper.

The slender birch tree
Casts its shadow on the snow--
Black from white on white.

White snow frosted trees
Stand etched against the gray sky.
Two birds sit high up.

Acrid wood smoke smell
Floats over the field of snow.
One bird breaks the hush.

Now one ornament
Hangs alone from the mailbox.
Soon it, too, will drop.

A cloud of snow dust
Brushes lightly from the tree
And makes not a sound.

Sudden burst of white:
Fallow snow clods from the trees.
Motion in the woods.

Dark hole in the rock--
A mysterious deep cave
Carved for centuries.

Everything's frosted white:
Phone wires, tree limbs, and house roofs,
Even the dead leaves.

A loud hollow grind:
The snow plow roars down the road,
Then silence returns.

The blinding white light
Absorbed in the field of snow
Cut through by shadows.

Gray clouds and white snow;
The snow bank is splashed with grime;
Birds sail to their trees.

Dog turds in the snow
Stand out in the blank white field,
Frozen where they lie.

Snow in the driveway
Blocks the entrance to the house--
Winter vacancy.

The pale tree fungus
Juts out above the snow field.
Which one is whiter?

A crow in the woods
Croaks at something or other;
But nothing answers.

Sun touches the road
Bringing the shadows to life;
Then it disappears.

Tiny icicles
Hanging from the ancient rock--
Each measuring time.

Sign stands in the snow:
"For Sale" but still no buyers;
Next to used pill box.

The stream has vanished
Covered completely by the snow.
Its sound is gone too.

Gray clouds rule the sky;
Wind, ice and snow rule the earth;
The road is empty.

Light breaks through now;
The road is splashed with sunlight;
Snow becomes brighter.

Swing is full of snow,
Hanging over the white lawn
Waiting for a push.

A voice in the wind
Echoes, whirling through the woods.
Is it man or beast?

Two yellow patches
Side by side on the snow bank--
A doggy winter.

The ancient gray rocks
Peer out beneath the thick snow;
They've seen it before.

Black dog on the snow
Prances and bounces with glee--
Cartoon character.

Trees bend, pop, and groan
Shivering in the ice wind
Then rustle softly.

Lines of sleet falling
Give sound to the silent snow.
All the world is white.

Snow cloud blows off barn,
Dances lightly in the air
And then whisps away.

Stream has disappeared;
In its place endless white
And the sound of sleet.

Houses are all hushed;
Yellow lights burn as beacons
In the endless white.

Wind sounds like a car
Barreling down its own roads
Never to be seen.

Not a speck of sun,
Just the darkness and the whiteness
And the roaring wind.

A snow plow drives by
Padded in the thick whiteness.
Even trucks are soft.

The skipping brown leaf
Slides to a stop on the snow.
Waits for the next gust.

A distant trickle
Far beneath the thick white snow--
Stream is surviving.

The receding snow
Reveals layers of dead leaves:
The passage of time.

White clouds tinged with gray
Move slowly across the sun
But don't hide it long.

The pen in the road
Lies where its owner left it
Has nothing to write.

Cloud above the pine
Hovers full, white and billowed
Then makes way for sun.

Sunlight and shadows
Play quietly on the road;
Just the wind whispers

Lone brown snaking limb
Twists up to the nearby tree
Struggles to survive.

Three speeding bluebirds
Disappear into the woods
Adding new color.

More shadows than trees
Criss cross the road dodging sun;
The snow is solid.

Frozen milkweed pods
Still offer their silken gifts
Brittle in the field.

Birds fight in the sky;
Their distress cuts through the freeze;
But they are unseen.

Forest full of creaks:
Frozen trees bend to the wind;
A woodpecker trills.

Three dry leaves hang on
The wind tugs and pulls at them
But they won't let go.

The crumbling stone wall
Ends at the base of the a tree;
Which one supports which?

The two trees branch out
Each one bending its own way,
But joined at the base.

The stream is frozen;
Even its sound is muted;
Blank, white impassive.

Everything's frozen:
Pebbles and footprints in snow.
White field stands starkly.

The stream is frozen;
Even the shadows are ice.
The wind rules the woods.

Three old garbage pails:
Two are up and one lies down.
Mailbox flag is up.

Tree tops are shaking
Making ice wind visible;
Wood creaks all around.

Even shadows freeze;
No witch's tit was colder;
And still the sun shines.

Frantic chimney smoke
Puffed into the icy wind
Blows this way and that.

From whisper to roar
Ice wind speeds through the forest;
Then back to whisper.

Young blond with pigtails
Sits warming up her pickup.
Her pipes have frozen.

Snow is melting now;
It's barely covered the ground.
Still the fields are white.

Clear blue/blinding white;
The sluggish stream barely moves.
February morn.

Two white plastic chairs
Face snow covered barbecue.
Party is over.

Footprints in the snow:
A dog's next to a human's--
A record of ghosts.

Down is easier;
Up the hill is strenuous;
One defines other.

Yellow bus signs glows
Against the whiteness of snow
Touched lightly by sun.

My doggy friend comes;
Shyly she wags a greeting
Then sniffs on her way.

The bright snow crunches;
Ribbon blows this way and that;
Two roosters crowing.

Wind across the field
Brings frantic spinning white flakes,
Hither, yon and gone!

Two women pass by:
"Good morning." "Yes it is that."
We exchange bright smiles.

A baby fir tree
Frosted with snow like Christmas
(Without ornaments).

Black dogs on white snow
Trot like cartoon characters
Sniffing out the world.

Black dog pads along
Her feet are covered with snow.
She likes her snow shoes.

Dancing specks of white
Briefly lit up by the sun
Wander to the ground.

Soft muffled rumbling:
Radio in car warming up.
What language is that?

Tree branches dance;
Blue sky belies the freezing;
Ice wind across field.

The white slivers meet,
Frozen streams conjoin.
A fat squirrel scurries.

Crazy white puppy
Somersaults in the window.
He wants to freeze, too.

Wind tumbles in woods
Waterfalls of icy air
Hollow and unseen.

Two leaves are racing,
Scurrying across the road.
They're fleeing the wind.

Coming back is soft:
Direct sun and wind in back.
Same road/different road.

The oil truck roars by
Leaving a smelly white haze--
Cheap advertising.

Amorphous soft cloud
Changes to a dinosaur
And swiftly dissolves.

Smell of burning wood;
Prickly trees reach for the sky;
Hens peck in the sun.

Smooth faced brown tree stump
Admits its age at its death--
Subtle monument.

Swing hangs in the sun
Football lies at the yard's end.
Where are the playmates?

Overturned tree trunk--
Vibrant moss covers its base.
Winter life goes on.

Beat up car zooms by,
Fills the air with gassy fumes
Which evaporate.

She shuffles past me
Cresting the long steep incline;
Each has our journey.

A lone mullein stalk
Shivers gently in the wind;
Guns boom in the woods.

The old rotten stump
Hugs the tall tree next to it.
Can it borrow life?

The cold wind warbles;
Around the bend it grows cold.
Distant rooster crows.

The stream is now ice;
In one place water bubbles
Racing against freeze.

The frozen green leaves
Hang motionless from the bush,
Folded to themselves.

Two dogs come running;
They race towards me and then veer.
It's a doggy game.

Bottom of the hill
My poochy friend stands waiting;
Then wags himself off.

No fair with four legs;
He stops ahead and faces me:
"What's taking so long?"

The sun is bright now;
Dark shadows fall on the road.
Still, the air is ice.

Old nest in the bush
Sits tilted towards the sun;
Hatchlings are long gone.

Ravens in the field;
Each alone hopping about.
Dark congregation.

Two dog tails wagging,
Jumping behind the fence slots;
They never get tired.

Sunlight on the bush
Illuminates the bare buds.
Forsythia waits.

Snow covered ice patch
Surrounds the slender tree trunk;
Tree will last longer.

Fir trees are lit up;
Dead leaves and moss are glowing.
A winter light show.

Old washing machine
Still waits in the empty field,
Now joined by beer can.

An empty wasp nest
Hangs from the abandoned house;
Two deserted shells.

White dog in window
Jumps up and down toy in mouth;
He wants me to play.

The field's asleep now;
Spring green has lost to dead brown;
Three crows hop along.

Sprinkle on the slate
Like confectioner's sugar
But it's really snow.

Animals are slow--
Two chickens follow the goat;
A winter parade.

Whiteness hear and there,
Sprinkled over the stream rocks,
Dusting the driveways.

Today is Monday;
Weekenders have gone back home.
Road is mine again.

Brightly the white pond
Glares blankly through the bare trees;
Snow is in the air.

Black-white birds flutter;
Black dog trots along gray road;
Like an old movie.

The sun is crisp and clear;
Tall grass are tufts of shadows;
The mailbox door creaks.

Still water is ice,
Twisting lines on its surface;
Lone bird cries sharply.

Old lady bending
Tries to shut frozen mailbox;
Both of them creaky.

Wind in the bright woods
Whispering a frozen tale.
Woodpecker rattles.


Shooting waves of sun
Break and fall against the trees.
Shadows rule the woods.

Bluejay in bushes
Hops deftly from branch to branch;
There's no concealment.

The dappled stream bed
Filled with sunshine and dead leaves
Dreams now of water.

The rusty mail box
Stands with its door half open
Waits to trap letters.

Circles in the ice
Go nowhere--they are frozen;
They must wait 'til Spring.

The sky is ice blue;
Not a cloud blocks the sunshine.
Where does the snow hide?

Gray sky and dog barks;
Wood smoke puffs out a chimney;
Cold wind up the field.

Neatly stacked boxed wood;
Each piece fits like a puzzle
Soon to be undone.

Blanket of ivy
Covers the upright dead tree
Masking death with life.

Lichen glows yellow
Picking up the rays of sun;
Then it fades to green.

Barking fills the woods--
Invisible angry yaps:
Dog cacophony.

Layered stone juts out,
Icicles droop from its chin;
A face in the hill.

Old dog sits on the hill;
Higher up his brother lies.
Two old sentinels.

Large tree stump snout
Lies with two dark knot hole eyes:
A still timber wolf.

Fierce German shepherd
Stops, stares and then comes to me
Wagging his large tail.

Small frozen patches;
Lines of ice along the road.
Now winter is here.

"Cheer! Cheer!" cries the bird;
Sun reflects off the blank ice
Bouncing off the stream.

The road becomes still
Save the ringing in my ears
And my footstep sounds.

Birds above the road
Like bits of dust in the air
Sparkled by the sun.

Now red berries rule
Illuminating dead brown
On spider branches.

Sunlit icicles
Hang transparent in the sun
Basking in their death.

Baseball in the woods
And football in the front yard
Waiting for playmates.

Bright sun and crisp breeze;
Orange ribbon blows gently.
Where is the winter?

A swirling ice patch
Glistens in the bright sunlight.
The sky is clear blue.

Dead log on the ground;
Dead vines are wrapped around it.
Who is fooling whom?

The woods seem so still;
Bare branches, dead leaves don't move.
Unseen lone goose honks.

Another season:
Christmas bells on the mailbox.
They're a bit fainter.

Barking dog bounds down
A mass of gleeful whining;
Wriggles and runs off.

Black stripes on the road:
The sun blasts the bare tree trunks
And casts down shadows.

Squashed fur on the road--
Tiny mousy legs stick out.
Life is to the swift.

Sun paints the tree limbs;
They stand against the blue sky:
Broccoli branches.

Leaning reflectors
Stand opposite each other
Like drunken road guards.

Patches of sunlight
Scattered throughout the forest
Play with the darkness.

Road is bright ahead;
Sun splashed shadows on white house;
Stinky septic smell.

Among bare branches
Birds flitter in the sunshine;
They've no place to hide.

Plane drones overhead
Growing fainter in the sky
Leaving just silence.

It's bright and sunny;
Air is cool and breeze is light.
Is this December?

Bright sun, dark shadows;
Ribbons wave in the brisk breeze;
The stream bubbles on.

It flies through the air,
Soaring, bobbing in the wind:
A single dead leaf.

Red berry bushes
Among bare branches and dead leaves.
Nine days 'til Christmas.

Road is bathed in sun;
Blinding tar lines run down it;
Even dead leaves shine.

Caged dogs are barking;
They're reflecting their master:
Unfriendly neighbor.

Woman strolls past me
Her voice musical, foreign;
Distant memory.

Hawk floats through the air,
Swirling, bobbing gracefully.
Where's unlucky mouse?

The road is shiny,
Trees mirrored in the wetness;
Crows caw in the mist.

A misty rain falls;
Small drops hang from bare branches;
Birds call and respond.

Sky is luminous,
Colorless, filled with moisture;
Plane drones in dimness.

Rain falls in the woods;
Dead leaves catch the tapping drops;
Sports Saab splashes by.

Soft light in window
Cuts through the dark wet morning
But I am outside.

Tapping all around:
Raindrops patter in the woods--
Forest percussion.

Mist on evergreen
Softens and blurs the branches.
Now they're emerging.

Rain catches wood smoke
Swirling it between the drops.
Laura walks her dog.

Planes drone and cars hum;
Traffic above and below.
Blue break in gray sky.

Chickens up the road;
Further down the checked cat sits;
Ducks quack in the pond.

Mushrooms climb the trees;
They form little round white steps
And wait for fairies.

The dead tree trunk stands still;
Covered with holes, dead fungi;
Woodpeckers are done.

The road is silent;
Gray clouds have taken the sky.
Birds flutter and cry.

Dark spider branches
Silhouette against the sky:
Stark black on bleak gray.

Old gray muzzled dog
Looks out under gray eyebrows.
He matches the sky.

Gray road is grayer;
Dark woods grow even darker.
December morning

A soft wind ripples,
Out of place in the grayness.
Does it come from a dream?

Ribbon in the wind
Flaps gaily from a tree limb;
Sun lights bare branches.

Wind across the field
Catches the caws of the crows
And sweeps the sunlight.

Bottle in the stream;
Water bubbles around it:
A clear green stranger.

Dark slats on the road;
Sun shines through the picket fence.
Still, the wind is cold.

Soft motion ahead;
A deer leaps across the road.
Wait! There are five more.

Pale moon in blue sky,
Fainter in the bright morning.
Soon clouds will eat it.

Birds in bare branches
Flutter around like insects
Shining in the sun.

White ice on dead grass
Suspended above the stream.
Stillness over speed.

Long grass is frosted,
Lying white, flat in the field.
December morning.

The brown leaves tremble;
The cold wind sweeps up the road;
Still they do not fall.

Whiteness near the trees:
Small ice patches dot the woods.
The streams are freezing.

The sky is slate gray;
Cold winds rush down the mountain;
Dry seed pods rustle.

The bare tree branches
Reach out like delicate webs
And sway in the wind.

Brown leaf on the road
Poised sharply like a dancer
Waiting for the wind.

Now it it is solid:
Phone book wedged in tree trunk.
Will it outlast tree?

The red barn stands mute;
Three white ducks float in the pond;
Timothy grass shakes.

Yellow blotch on ground
Sticks out on the dead brown leaves:
Bright banana peel.

Early morning hush;
Even the birds chirp softly;
Wood smoke on the wind.

Bare trees on gray skies;
Green ivy climbs the dead trunk;
A confused season.

Invisible crows
Caw through the soft morning clouds;
The air is heavy.

Orange reflectors
Nailed side by side to the tree
Beneath "stay out" sign.

Feathers on light pole
Stuck in metal phone emblem
No longer in flight.

Almost December;
The air is moist, soft and warm.
When will the snow fall?

Statue on the hill:
Old black dog sits silently--
An autumn shadow.

It is darker now;
The dead brown leaves are glowing;
The earth holds its breath.

The trees stand starkly
Against a white wall of mist;
Only a hen moves.

It lies all around;
I try to move into it
But never get there.

Face against windows;
Eyes closed, dreaming of rabbits?
The small sleeping dog.

White against dark brown:
They stick out from the tree trunk,
Little shelf mushrooms.

The air is moist, fragrant;
There are no leaves on the trees--
End of November.

Mist on the mountain;
In the distance all is blurred;
Up close, all is clear.

The tall half dead tree--
At its bottom, shelf mushrooms;
At the top, brown leaves.

Old tree leans over,
Forms an arc above the road.
What force bent it so?

Bramble of branches--
A naked forest of twigs:
Forsythia bush.

Brown and beige on green:
Billy goat stands in the field
Munching on the grass.

Fence and bushes lean;
Helping each other to stand;
Will they ever fall?

Old rock on the hill
Looks out with many faces;
Now watches the road.

Wire in the bushes
Twisting among the branches;
Gray snake in brier.

Moss rock on the road
Facing the wrong direction.
Someone knocked it there.

Woman on the roof
Sweeping away the dead leaves;
It's not even spring.

The sunlit dirt road
Winds dappled into the woods.
Its end is unseen.

Forsythia's gone;
The leaves have fled the branches;
Just a few stragglers.

Small leaves on tree tops;
Alone, they reach for the sky;
Below, bare branches.

Ivy covered trees;
The dead tree trunks are green--
Leafy life on death.

The woods are soggy;
Moist brown leaves form a blanket.
There's a green bottle.

Small beads of water
Hang from the sharp pine needles
Which tremble slightly.

New soft shell mushrooms
Cling to the old dead tree trunk;
Soon they will be hard.

The old junked red car
Stuffed with bags and packages
Has nowhere to go.

Lichen on the trees:
Blotches of yellowish green.
There it covers the trunk.

Slate gray morning breeze;
White chickens peck in the yard;
Two frolicking goats.

Milkweed pods still stand,
Two of them have hanging puffs.
Won't a wind please come?

Red glass in the tree:
Reflector guards the driveway,
Comes to light at night.

Port holes in the tree;
Woodpecker has picked it clean,
Letting light shine through.

There is no breeze now;
Still brown leaves lie on the ground;
Birds stir silently.

A small puff of breeze;
Tiny yellow leaves tremble;
Then total silence.

Mechanical hum
Cuts the silence of the woods;
Bird thinks it's a mate.

School time is in the air;
The crisp smell of fallen leaves.
Bright light on bare trees.

A strong gust of wind;
A hawk glides through the blue sky;
Dry milkweed pods stand.

The trees are bare now;
Stubborn leaves hang from bushes;
Half moon in blue sky.

Sun shines through the woods
Lighting up leaves and branches.
Thousand shades of brown.

Red berry bushes
Shine out in the beige brown woods--
Forecast of yule time.

Cluster of dead leaves
Still hanging from their branches;
Some there in the spring.

Stream bed filled with leaves;
Further up water burbles.
Soon it will be clogged.

The moss covered rock
Has layers upon layers--
A million winters.

Bird like twittering,
Then the sound of grinding gears:
Garbage truck backs up.

White ducks in the rain
Quacking continuously.
What's better than this?

Rainbow of color:
Car oil on the rain swept road.
Metallic rainbow.

Splattering rain drops
Tapping on the shiny road;
The gray mist hangs low.

Bird cries in the mist;
Drops hang like globes from the branch;
The stream rushes on.

Two lights in the gloom--
Car swishes on the wet road;
Then just the rain drops.

Leaf falls with the rain;
It lands soggy on the road.
Ahead a squashed squirrel.

The glistening birch
Pops up behind the barn,
Bright, white, and naked.

Dried brown milkweed pods
Stand together in the field.
One vomits white silk.

The wind is cold now;
Dead leaves tremble on branches.
Hollow gunshot sound.

Scarlet berries peek;
Their bushes are everywhere,
No longer hidden.

The arrow points left
Directing all down the road.
(I feel to go right.)

White puffs on branches
Tremble gently in the wind.
They wait for release.

Pink gauze on the branch
Sparkles but cannot break free.
Halloween remnant.

Gray clouds and blue sky;
Sunlight shifts in the chill air.
I can see my breath.

Sunlight is spreading;
Sharp shadows and glowing leaves--
Then the gray cloud's hand.

Pine needle blanket;
Leaves float gently to the ground;
A mournful bird cries.

The deserted house
Stands hollow by the roadside;
Its windows are blank.

Black dog trots ahead
Waving its tail like a flag,
Then hunches to poop.

Dappled caged forest;
The bright sun lights up the wires.
Light escapes prison.

A ribbon of light:
Sun splashes the stream below
Which murmurs faintly.

Warm Halloween morn;
Bare ghost trees claw at the sky.
Witches are sleeping.

Wood smoke and grass smell;
Warm breeze bubbles with the stream;
Silent bird flutters.

The woods are sunny;
Few leaves block the gentle warmth.
Indian summer.

Bird nest high above
Revealed by the fallen leaves.
Autumn's nakedness.

The blank octagon
Faces grayly down the road:
Back of a stop sign.

Howl up in the woods;
Below ducks quack wheezingly;
Then all is silence.

Everything is quiet
Save the ringing in my ears
(Or are those angels?)

Orange bushes grow
Appearing throughout the woods;
Now is their time.

Sparkling brown leaves
Glitter falling in the sunlight.
Then a bird flutters.

Small birds fly about,
Zipping from bush to bush
Looking for cover.

The moss is still green
Amidst dead leaves, dying grass
Shaded by the pines.

Shiny milkweed pods
Lit up in the morning sun
Pregnant with their juice.

Spicy smell somewhere--
Mulching leaves or forest moss?
A scent of Autumn.

The collapsing tent
Stands askew in the back yard.
Summer is over.

Like a wooden bell
The strange bird clucks in the woods
Soft, invisible.

Web between the trees
Catches leaves, dust, and the sun;
Spider is long gone.

Acorn falls to road
Making a sharp tapping sound.
Where have the squirrels gone?

Sun sifts through the leaves
Filtering out the colors:
Orange, yellow, green.

Scent of fresh cut grass
Wafts between shadows and light,
Dissolves in the sun.

Blue aster cluster
Flourishing by running stream,
Never gets thirsty.

Fuzzy bear on road
Crawls across the gray expanse--
Uh-oh, car's coming.

Laura walks ahead;
Gilda trots alongside of her.
Sun paints both of them.

The wind blows the leaves
Sailing them through the sunshine.
They rasp on the road.

Here and there brown hills;
Dead leaves blown into mountains.
Still the warm sun shines.

The woods have no end:
Sun/shade go on forever.
The soft wind whispers.

The old black dog pants,
Lying in the warm sunshine
Then glances at me.

Bright red berries grow
Near the faded white flowers.
Winter is coming.

Shadow blotched road
Marking where the sun is not.
Leaf floats in the light.

Pickup races by
Followed by a whirl of leaves;
Then other leaves float.

The stone angel prays
Touched by the warm Fall sunshine
And blessed by the breeze.

Bright green grasshopper
Flies off road and into grass
Then becomes a blade.

The lone brown mushroom
Disguised among the dead leaves
Stands softly erect.

Basset in the sun
Lies sleeping and unmoving
Mottled like the leaves.

Cottage door's open
Letting in Autumn's breezes--
Sweet whiff of dead leaves.

Flat rock in the woods
Carpeted with light brown leaves;
An Autumn altar.

Cardinal in the bush:
Pastel red against light brown,
Flutters into flight.

Translucent Fall leaves
Take the sun and absorb it;
Opaque with a cloud.

The woods are dark now,
Sunlight driven from the leaves
Because of one cloud.

A flurry of leaves
Flying hectic to the ground;
Wind roars in the woods.

It's cold this morning;
Sun's lower than yesterday.
Still the rooster crows.

Smells are fainter now;
Just the dry must of dead leaves.
Second day of Fall.

Cat on the stone walk
Freezes as it smells and hears.
Far off a bird chirps.

My shadow's ahead
Stepping crisp into sunshine,
But then disappears.

Sun lit pine needles:
One spider's strand touches them
Seen for a second.

Asters, goldenrod
Grow together on the bank
And share it with moss.

The ancient stone wall
Crumbling around the old tree
Creates an altar.

A bed of clover
Their heads turned to face the sun
Don't even see me.

The green leaves tremble,
Painted yellow by the sun,
Billowed by the breeze.

A mottled tunnel:
Trees bend over sunlit road
Casting their shadows.

Brown in the middle:
Fuzzy bear caterpillar
Foretells mild winter.

Bright-dark, sun and shade
Woods are three dimensional.
Have they always been?

Leaves float towards me
Shaken by September's breeze,
And land silently.

A grand pile of shit--
Could this be a giant dog
Or small elephant?

Sun blinds through the trees
Splashing warmth upon my face,
Shadows on the road.

Crows are arguing;
Who knows what is their dispute.
The sound is hollow.

Cat and butterfly:
The cat wants to fly also
(Or at least eat it).

Short sleeved shirt weather;
Colors are starting to turn.
The rasp of dry leaves.

Leaf falls to the ground;
Hundreds of moist leaves await
Untouched by the breeze.

A pool of wetness
Glistens beneath mottled trees.
Mirror in the woods.

Holy milkweed plant
Stands pockmarked in the sunshine--
Some creature's breakfast.

Still the woods are still;
Sunlight falls through the green leaves
And makes not a sound.

Feather in the grass
Trembles with the passing car
Its owner long flown.

Dead leaves on a tree
Far outnumber the living.
When will they fall?

Raindrops fall gently;
Crows caw in the soft gray clouds;
Leaves go tap tap tap.

Raindrops touch the woods,
Leaves and stream make tapping sounds;
A blizzard of leaves.

The little dog sleeps
Framed in the cottage window
Soft grayness around.

The weathered tree stump
Divided into five parts
Painted green with moss.

Green lines in the road;
Lichen moves from the forest
To fill up the cracks.

The goldenrod glows
Sticking out from the hill's bank
Bright in the gray sky.

Cricket in the woods
Invisible, persistent
Chirps in the gray day.

Sky is pregnant gray;
The road is slick and shiny;
Smell of wood smoke.

Firm breeze and bright sun;
Pickup zips around the bend
Its tires whooshing.

Dancing road shadows
Quiver and then become still.
Lone goose honks above.

Soft whispering stream
Bubbles gently through the woods
Shining then dimming.

The road is silent;
A squirrel bounds into the woods.
Still there is no sound.

Black dog on the road:
My sometime walk companion
Wags her way to me.

A "V" in the trees:
View of another mountain.
Green beyond the green.

Humming tire wheels;
The hollow wind in my ears;
Crows caw and geese honk.

A dog barks somewhere;
The stream bubbles endlessly.
I watch my shadow.

Crisp Sunday morning;
The shadows are sharp and clear,
The sky crystalline.

Cat on barn driveway
Ambles without a care
And then disappears.

Squirrel crosses the road
Blending swiftly with shadows.
Now it's up the tree.

Garter snake on road
Coils mouth open to attack;
Doesn't know I'm safe.

The woods are shadows
Illumined by shades of green
And bright beige patches.

Squirrel zips across road;
Attaches itself to tree.
Motion to stillness.

Car zips up the road,
Cyclist zooms down the same road;
Then there is stillness.

My Yerry Hill Road:
I walk it a thousand times
And still don't know it.

Mother snake on road
Lies crushed with many babies.
Peaceful killer street.

Blue sky and gray clouds;
Queen Anne's lace and goldenrod;
A flutter of birds.

Sparkling spider nets
Hold water drops in the field.
But where are the bugs?

Dog wrestles a cloth
In the small cottage window.
No sound of his growls.

Sunshine in the woods
Makes mottled patterns of light.
Now the sky is blue.

Pine trees seem fuzzy;
Sun filters through the needles
And makes a green haze.

Blue chicory plants
Spring up by the road side
Waiting for a ride.

Sparkling tree glistens
Shadows quiver in the breeze.
Ant crosses the road.

Spider web hammock
Stretches between blades of grass
Waiting patiently.

The clouds disappear;
Shadows appear on the road.
The stone path glistens.

Murmur of a stream;
Limp ribbon hangs from a tree;
Signs of a rain storm.

White butterflies dance.
Flutter over blue flowers.
They don't seem to rest.

White fluff in window
Comes to life barking and yipping
And then settles down.

Woods are moist and green;
Leaves filter all the sunlight.
Rich smell is layered.

Small orange sparkles:
Jewel weed clusters by the road.
Truck does not notice.

Large poop in the road.
Must have been a giant dog
(Or something unknown).

Flies in eyes and ears;
What is it they hope to get?
They just piss me off.

Orange squashes on road:
Red efts that did not make it.
They keep on coming.

Mirrors by the road:
Rain puddles in the stream bed
Soon sink into earth.

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.