Morning air is cool;
Voices of children next door;
Time to run and play.

Sitting and chewing
Concentrated on each bite:
Goat meditation.

There are only thorns:
Thistle's blue flower is gone
Armed now for winter.











Freckles of sunshine
Play with shadows on the tree--
Quiet morning games.

Small brown falling leaf
Quickly, jerkily, floats down
To the forest floor.

In the morning sun
Shadows and light in the moss--
Tiny universe.

Blue flowers tremble
As the bee climbs among them--
Awkward gardener.

Rushed sounds in the woods;
Unseen creatures move about.
Are they watching me?

Below blue flowers
Trickle of running water;
Stream is always there.

SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 16

Pungent wood smoke;
Noisy car zips past me;
Walnuts on the road.

Dew shines in the field;
Blue daisies peer out shyly.
September Sunday.








Bee sits motionless
Sprawled on the tiny white flower.
Has it expired?

One bright patch of light
Surrounded by deep darkness--
Forest paradox.

Old telephone pole
Standing, pecked at hammered on--
A faded sign post.

Motion on the ground;
Something moves under the leaves:
Invisible beast!

Single shiny strand
Stretches from nowhere to moss,
A slide for fairies.

White petals of light
Helter skelter seize the sun
Crushing out darkness.

Air is rich with smells,
Some coming from the dark barn
To mix with the sun.

A gray webbed puddle
Glistens brightly in the field.
Where is its owner?

The stream barely moves;
Motion is in the bird sounds;
A woodpecker thumps.

Green flowers and leaves
Cover the old dead tree trunk
Bringing forth new life.

The woods are always new;
Now a crow sings the shadows;
Cackle bursts of light.






Islands of bright light
Float between the trees and road;
Warm play of sunshine.

New blue flowers grow;
They are hidden in the shade;
Just shy chicory.

Two pals, cat and dog
Enjoy an autumn morning
Each in their own way.

Children's voices chirp,
Then the wind blows them away
Like puffs of sound light.

Cluster of asters;
Fluttering orange ribbon;
Both at the wind's whim.

Now the sun is here;
Seconds before there were clouds--
Morning mosaic.

A loud wind's rustle
Shakes the trees and moves the clouds
Shifting light and shape.

Peeling from the tree
A rough mottled piece of bark
Once a source of life.





Myriad of shapes
The lichen paints the tree trunks
A living palette.

Wind is roaring now;
This second there's nothing else;
Then all is quiet.











Large ferns of autumn
Spread like green fans by the road
Embracing the sun.

Soft misty morning;
Sun plays tag with the gray clouds;
Two doves sit on wire.

The stream is hidden
Under a billow of green;
Its trickle is faint.











A hive of mushrooms--
Community of fungi
Take over the tree.

New spray of flowers;
A woman walking her two dogs;
Just Yerry Hill Road.











The bend turns again;
Just around it, mystery
Always unfolding.











The plants are holey
Nibbled with a million bites--
Unseen gluttony.

Orange and yellow--
Jewel weed next to goldenrod:
A fashion statement.

Monarch butterfly
Floats past the old milkweed pods.
It doesn't stop for me.

Dainty little turd
Sits primly by the roadside
Waiting for a foot.

Today all is light;
Even the shadows are lit;
Goldenrod more gold.

A lone brown mushroom
Basks in a luscious green sea.
Wind rustles the leaves.

Single cricket song
Flows softly from the forest
And over the road.

Light strikes the wire fence
Illuminating the cage.
Who are the captives?







Some leaves are yellow
But most of them are still green.
It is reversing.

The plane gets louder
Then fainter as it passes;
But always unseen.

Light plays in the woods
Breaks darkness into patches
And welcoming paths.







Mysterious buds
Sway over the hidden stream;
What will be their bloom?

A full wheelbarrow
Stands in the door of the barn;
Behind, the goats chomp.

The purple thistle
Blooms brightly above its thorns:
Look! But do not touch!

Pencil on the ground
Has something to write about
But no one to write.







Luscious white flowers
Hang in delicate bouquets--
Offers to the world.

There are more dead leaves;
Slowly the woods change color;
Winter's carpet comes.

Ticking behind me
A dry leaf has hit the road
And come to a halt.

Cars and trucks whiz by
Heading for destinations
Leaving the still woods.

HAIKU ON LABOR DAY

Mistless moist morning;
Breath of woods and fields exhale;
Perfume of autumn.

Mirror in the stream
Skims along the smooth surface
Just reflecting thoughts.







Man walks his two dogs;
Joggers jog two directions.
Today is Labor Day.

Green and brown pine trees
Stand together side by side--
Living and the dead.

They have become steps
The tough old brown shelf fungi:
Stairway to tree tops.

Small delicate plants
Spread out their spidery leaves
To catch sun and rain.

Mail boxes are mute;
Web on one, other rusted;
No messages here.

Old web on dead tree
Glistening in the morning sun;
There's no one at home.

Cool, crisp sunny morn;
Curious goats peek out from dark
Staring at the world.

Old balloons hang limp;
Party was three months ago.
All have forgotten.

Squirrel in the shadows
Becomes a shadow himself--
In and out of light.

Marking an event
Balloon bobs and sways gently--
Polka dot sign post.











Faded red sumac
Offers dry sour berries
For exotic foods.

A fluffy green cloud--
Small fir tree basks in the sun
Storing for winter.

Christmas ornament
Still hangs on through the seasons--
Many Septembers.

Sipping goldenrod
Bee enjoys the autumn feast
Before moving on.











Pregnant milkweed pods
Ready to burst into seeds
And fly, fly away.

Crossing the wide road
Fuzzy bear changes its mind;
Other side? Who cares?






It's a dappled day;
Woods, road and leaves all speckled
With the play of sun.

Dead leaf on a branch
Stuck on its way to the ground
Waiting for a gust.

Garbage off the road
Has been strewn there for six days.
Where are the owners?

Sky breaks through the trees
With patches of blue and white
Framed by shiny green.











One tiny mushroom
Grows in the tree stump center--
A forest jewel.











Smashed against the bank
Old beer can starts to recede;
Nature will triumph.

Growling behind me--
Is it a dog or a bear?
Oh. Just a cyclist.

Million small droplets
Sparkle in the morning sun--
Spider web in field.