Tiny white flowers
Grow wild all over my lawn.
How can I cut them?

Sitting off the road
Black and white cat surveys all,
Watching whatever.

The giant mailbox
Has been through many seasons;
What news has it held?

In dandelions
Abandoned basketball lies,
Soon to disappear.








The empty stream bed
Flows barren among the trees
Promising water.











Sign says no pooping;
It pictures a shitting dog.
But what about squirrels?






Between the two trees
Gray cat sits like a statue.
Is it a statue?













Locked in an embrace
Shelf fungi cling to dead tree
Linked there forever.

Small mini white blooms
Sprinkle up throughout the woods;
Not here yesterday.

Yellow hemispheres
Perched glowing on slender stems--
Dandelions rule.

Yellow and purple
A half rainbow of flowers
Sits by the roadside.

The darkened barn door
Opens into a black void;
Is anything there?

A morning stillness;
Everything is in its place.
The barn door is dark.

Shade of the fir tree
Nourishes a bed of green--
Soft coexistence.

Crow sits on a branch
Cackling loud with pleasure:
"It's good as it gets."

Pastel orange blooms
Peek shyly from the tree limbs
Drinking in the shade.



The deep dappled woods
Play with the light and shadows
Remaining so still.

Faint smoke and shadows;
Long white line across the sky;
Lone pale butterfly.

Two rotten tree stumps
Sitting facing each other
Whispering of death.

Against the dead leaves
Dandelions go to seed;
Others still budding.

Rusted in the woods
Ancient mechanical piece--
Unwitting sculpture.



Near imprisoned woods,
Next to the no dog poop sign
Sits a home made bench.

The shy woodpecker
Quickly hides around the tree;
Known just by his sound.

Swift tiny spider
Darts zigzag across the road--
"It's unstoppable"*

*with acknowledgments to Lucy Bluestone Gilbertsen

Crisp morning breeze blows
Yet the clouds seem fixed and still;
Pine trees speak the wind.

Robins in the field
Have a universe to peck;
Just where to begin?

Buds against the sky
Soon to form a canopy;
Now just bide their time.

Rigid gray stone saint
Presides over the flowers--
(Maybe the reverse).

Dead leaf among buds
Is not ready to let go;
The wind will decide.



Luminescent leaves
Sprinkled all over the woods
Mark the march of spring.

Swooping from nowhere
The large hawk dips, glides and floats
Raking the shadows









Surrounded by wire
The yellow plant stands alone:
Caged forsythia.

Slender white birch tree
Catches the morning sunshine
Yellow buds blooming.

The black and white cat
Sits patiently in the grass
Waiting for something.

Sign "Children At Play";
Nobody is playing here.
Where are the children?


Chirp and a flutter,
Then rustling in the tree;
A bird emerges.

Shadows on the tree:
Two birds lift into the sun
Taking their darkness.

Old dead limbs reach out
Grasping at the empty air;
Above them--green buds.

Many shades of light--
The woods are dappled today.
Soft woodpecker throbs.

Illuminated--
Leaves, blossoms glow in the sun;
If they could, they'd laugh.

Walking in sunshine
I conjure an argument;
How silly I am.

Three goats are posing;
One eats, two watch camera;
A family portrait.


Stretched out in the sun,
Little Basset dreams of smells,
Stubby leg twitching.








Against the blue sky
Bare branches silhouetted
Embrace the sunshine.

In the shadows of the woods
By a moss covered long log
I enjoy a piss.

Green buds everywhere
Dotting a million branches;
Two honking wild geese.

The blackened tree stump
Stands next to the tall maple
Whispering its fate.

Tiny white flowers
Burst from the buds of the tree.
How did they get there?

The sign says "Our Road";
The name is growing fainter:
"Sic transit gloria."

Air is cool and moist,
Laden with the smell of blooms;
Goats stand watching me.

Blue jay skims the road,
Flies towards some destination
Then dissolves in pines.

Faded old wood sign
Hammered on the dead tree trunk
Points nowhere to go.

Old wire near old fence--
Neither keeps anything out.
Two unfinished tasks.

Old tree has a mouth,
Lips frozen in mid-sentence.
What was that you said?

A splash of lichen
From some yellow-green paintbrush
Illustrates the tree.


Rickety old house
Tries to keep up appearance
But there's no one there.

Lone purple flower
Pops up from its bed of green
Like small feisty grapes.

Dark empty barn door;
Mystery figure inside--
Curious old goat.

Dandelion bunch;
Splash of yellow in green field.
Birds call and answer.

Red letters shouting
In the still of the morning
Just one word: IMPEACH

Barking car passes;
Driver looks very resigned
To her loud mouthed dogs.

Moss on dead tree's roots
Transform the rotting tree trunk
Into life again.


Shadow on the tree
Like a ghost waiting for me;
It's just a shadow.

Forest of fir trees
Has emerged in a few months.
It's unstoppable!


First, the wind is faint,
Then it gathers through the woods
Shouting its whisper.

Miniature forest
Lies hidden on a boulder.
Are we thus observed?


Green buds in the sun
Wave on the gentle spring breeze;
Lilacs wait their turn.

Whispering pine trees
Bend their heads close together;
Gossip about wind.

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.