Muggy August morn;
Clouds in the sun splotched gray sky.
The shadows seem moist.

Puffballs on a stump--
Light beige on the dead dark wood.
The two states of brown.






Small asters peek out,
Maybe to grab some sunshine.
They seem very shy.

A jogger runs by,
Her feet slap the hard gray road.
Is she having fun?



Brown maple leaves lie;
All that's around them is green.
Prophets of the fall.

Flying grasshopper
Stops still, then flutters upward
Spreading zebra wings.

Two dark mounds of rock
Sit still facing each other.
Will they come to life?

Mini white flowers
Hide together in a bunch
Each petal unique.

Bright morning sunshine
Butterflies skim the meadow;
A warm breeze billows.

Shadows on the trees
Dance lightly in the sunshine;
Wind and light combine.

Warm gentle breeze blows
Bringing smells from the forest:
Childhood memories.



The road is silent;
Leaves hang muted on the trees;
Hush! The shadows speak.

Shaking in the wind
Plant's leaves quiver and tremble--
A small ecstasy.

Tiny white flowers
Join others in harmony
Forming Queen Anne's Lace.

Dark the dappled woods;
Path of light draws me onward
To a place of rest.


Tiny orange blossoms
Illumine the large green leaves:
Jewel weed blossoming.

BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN

It has been my twenty first summer as head counselor and theater director at Appel Farm Arts Camp in south New Jersey. It is two months of great creative intensity and now back to the welcoming arms of Yerry Hill Road and the surrounding mountains.

Surrounded by mountains and laced with streams, this is a feng hsui paradise. Maybe that's why it has attracted so many artists, writers, musicians and creative folks for over a century. And so, I begin my journey along this ever changing road again. What a delight.

Blue hickory grows
By delicate Queen Anne's Lace;
The gray air is soft.

Jewel weed by the road
Glistening stream flows slow;
No need for a rush.

A doe and three fauns
Stop in their tracks to check me,
Then keep on eating.


Falcon skims the road,
Flies to telephone pole,
Sits uncertainly.

The falcon again
On top of telephone pole
Pulling at its meal.









Rifle shots ring out
Hollow unseen in the woods--
Danger reminder.

Small group of puffballs
Grow together by the road
Dream when they'll explode.






Goldenrod is out
Showering the field with yellow--
Queen of the autumn.

Pale butter 'n eggs,
Chicory, Queen Anne's Lace, jewel weed:
Autumn eye salad.

Hi Friends,

Each summer for the past twenty-one summers I have journeyed from Woodstock, NY to Elmer, NJ to become head counselor and theater director at Appel Farm Arts Camp. So, until the end of August I will not be walking on Yerry Hill Road. However, for those that are interested, I will still be publishing haiku on my site Haiku to You. It's address is:
http://haikutoyouto.blogspot.com/

Cloudy gray morning;
Pickup roars loudly by
Leaving smell of gas.

Buttercup feather
Shivers under yellow bloom.
Soft end of the day.

Balloon on a pole
Has slowly lost its pizazz;
No more block party.











Sun brushes the woods
With softness at the day's end.
Even shadows smile.

Shadow on the moss,
Sharp and distinct as the leaf;
Swift imprint of light.




Even leaves don't move;
Everything's still, in the woods--
Motionless shadows.

Who's walking in front?
He has no face or features.
How could that be me?










Milkweed at sunset
Takes in soft rays of the sun.
Soon the buds will burst.

Telephone pole ghost--
Now you see it, now you don"t;
Was it really there?

Sun glistens on leaves;
Rain is over, sky is blue;
Dove sits on a wire.

Everything is green,
Only the shadows are black
(And the pale blue sky).

A soft high humming
Emerges from the white blooms.
Bees are satisfied.








Meadow in the woods,
Emerald green in the darkness;
Sun and rain have won.

Ringing in the woods
High above animal sounds;
Could be life, itself.

Small hanging lanterns
Poised delicately on their stems;
It's deadly nightshade.








Dark imprints of leaves
Etched on the lighter tree trunk--
A moment's shadow.

Patches of sunlight
Illuminate the forest--
Play of light and dark.

Not a ray of sun;
Everything has a blue cast;
Birds speak quietly.

There are no shadows,
No play of sun among leaves--
Democratic light.











Today's a white day--
White flowers bloom all over
Cutting through the gray.








Patch of soft white blue
Lifts the darkness from the woods--
Whisper of color.














Poised in attack mode
Small spider waits on the road
To vanquish a car.

The ancient tree trunk
Joins its partner forever;
A dark dignity.

Buzz saw far away;
Invisible bird calling;
Running stream bubbles.

A gentle breeze blows;
The sky is gray mixed with blue;
Voices from far off.

Pile of strewn white fluff
Lies scattered by the road side--
It once was a bird.

A silent brown flash--
White tail bounds into the woods.
Was it a mirage?

Resting on tree trunk,
Some moss adds green to the brown--
Life nourishes life.











Standing in the field:
Abandoned washing machine--
Nature's flower pot.


Where do shadows go?
Now they mark the bend in road,
Now they've disappeared.









The forest is dark
Even though it's almost noon.
The tree stump seems pleased.


"Do fresh" the words say,
Printed on discarded cup
Lying "fresh" in ditch.

Afternoon shadows
Fall lightly on road and field.
Earth takes a deep breath.

Stick mound in the field;
Willy nilly pile of limbs--
New home for creatures.








Rusty tree stands tall
Clear against surrounding green--
A soft compliment.








Bright patch of sunset
Lies glowing just off the road,
Soon will disappear.

Small trumpet flowers
Purse their white petaled lips
Waiting to be popped.








Hanging in mid air
Working its way to the sky:
A dreaded inch worm.

Strutting wild turkey;
Deer leaps softly into woods;
It is twilight time.

Cyclist rushes past
Goggles fixed, head to the road;
Could be anywhere.

Standing on two feet
Goat is sure that he's human;
Height is everything.

Shadows turn with road,
Disappear around the bend.
Wind rustles softly.











Three balls in the grass
Surrounded by green stillness
With no place to go.

Tiny blue flowers
Appear from nowhere in woods.
They seem very shy.

A lone blue flower
In a flurry of yellow--
Each defines other.

Small hole in the rock--
Dark and mysterious cave;
What creatures live there?

Patterns light and dark--
Sun dashes against the leaves;
Shadows make the woods.


Sparkle by the road;
Light trickles on the stream's back.
The two liquids join.

Green, star shaped and spiked
It stands alone by the road:
Unsociable plant.











White blob under plant;
What is this moist strange substance?
Some say fairy spit.

Thick sweet smell of spring;
Purple blooms line my driveway;
A white butterfly. Dandelion puffs
Mark the onset of summer;
A bird chirps softly.

The stream is lazy;
Water sitting in the sun;
Leaves gently blowing.

There's a stillness now,
A softness in the breezes;
Small birds chirp gently.

A patch of green light
Illuminates the forest;
Trees stand quietly.

Bright splash of yellow,
Neighbor to the giant fern
Enlivens roadside.

Buzzing round my head
Wanting something I can't give--
A God-damned deer fly.

A path of shadows
Weaves through the darkened forest
Destined for nowhere.

Pattern on the road
Left by an avian bomber
(Did not see its work).









Like a bolt of doom
Baby turtle was struck down
By unseeing car.








Perfect pointed leaves
Spread out--a star by the road--
Green geometry.