Time Has Disappeared

Gray sky, cold, crisp air;
All the puddles are frozen;
Far, far, a bird calls.








Amicable chairs
Ready for conversation
When the time is right.

Ready for winter,
The pine cone hangs from the tree;
New cycle begins.

A cock-eyed mailbox
Waits quizzically for letters.
Does it read them, too?

Through the fence grating
Delicate green vines entwines
As fine as a web.








The sun comes gently
Peeking through the thick gray clouds,
Casts shadows, then gone.

A river of trash
In white torrents down the hill;
Blind eyes are elsewhere.








Nestled in the bark
And flowing from the dead limb
The fungus survives.













My wrist watch is blank;
I cannot see the numbers.
Time has disappeared.

Suspended in air
Three dead leaves on the tree trunk
Attached to a thin vine.

The Wind Does Not Care

The dark inner barn
Seems warm in the icy sun--
Backwards temperature.








Stacked against the house
Rows of wood waiting their turn
To alchemize.

A ghost in the sky:
Last night's moon still lingers on,
Its own reflection








Propelled by the wind
Wood smoke puffs from the chimney
To swirl through the air.

Cold slice of sunlight
Slashes down the thin tree trunk
Cutting it in half.

A thin metal can
Dwarfed in the ocean of leaves;
Its name is "Ultra".








Once this was a house;
Now just the rocks tell the tale
And the old washer.

The three last brown leaves
Shiver on the slender branch;
The wind does not care.

Crystalline tendrils
Suspended over the stream--
Ice above water.

Leap Frogging Seasons

In dark sharp shadows,
Brown cow munches lazily
As sun disappears.

Bleating and grazing
Small billy goat stops to scratch--
Then back to the food.

It's almost buried
The vibrant green ground cover
Now losing its ground.









The gray clouds draw over;
The sharp shadows disappear,
A new world is born.

At the branches' ends
Little green buds can be seen
Leapfrogging seasons.

They say it may snow;
A gray coldness in the air
Might give birth to white.

Above each other
Two shelf fungi face the road--
A mushroom totem.












A single snow flake
Floating gently past my nose
Is joined by others.

Wind in the forest
Rustling the unseen trees
Does not reach the road.

The Wind Calls the Tune

Old faded marker
Sprouts up now from the dead leaves.
Fall exposes all.

Strong wind moves the clouds;
Sun casts shadows on the house;
Then the gray returns.

Sun and clouds play tag--
Flashes of light and grayness.
The wind calls the tune.

The house is for rent;
The windows stare vacantly;
Jumping dog is gone.

The scooter has moved;
It lies close to the road.
Will it ride away?










Wind is all about
Booming echoes through the woods,
Shaking leaves and trees.

Last year stump was king;
Surrounded by tiny pines.
Now they eclipse it.












Blowing randomly
Wind speeds leaves across road;
Then it retreats.

Pointing to the sky,
The dead limbs silhouetted.
What do they foretell?

In little thin branches
The falling log is captured
To hang suspended.

Abandoned bird's nest
Flanked by purple berry clumps
In mass of brambles.

Seasonal Limbo

Warm, moist, gray morning;
Brown cow wags it tail slowly;
Everything is still.







The camouflaged cat
Trots across the muddy path;
No one will see it.

Rain is in the air;
Brown pine needles hang drooping;
Drops cling to branches.








Acrid smell of smoke
Floats gently across the road--
Unseen and unheard.

Branches guard the woods-
Entwined, bare and spiderlike,
Catching falling leaves.

Gray slick and snakelike
The old road twists up the hill
In writhing stillness












Pocked yellow apples
Hang from the leafless branches:
Seasonal limbo.












Ghost white and bone clean
Dead limb stands with living--
Tree coexistence.

At edge of the cave
A tiny pine tree stands guard
Against the darkness.

Others Caught Falling

Half bare, half yellow
My bush straddles the seasons
Under a light sun.

With knot holes gaping
Bare tree looks over the road
To the colored hills.

Birds sounding frantic--
Catching late flights to the south?
Or just complaining?

A rippled mirror
Stream continues to bubble;
Dark are its shadows.












Through the large knot hole
A glimpse of the tree beyond--
From darkness to light.








The woods are brown now
With blankets of dead dry leaves;
And, yes, evergreens.

Round, on bare branches
Apples still hang from the tree;
Others caught falling.

Number on a pole
Old faded steel medallion:
"C H G & E"








Caught in the brambles:
Milkweed seed not far from home
Flutters in the breeze.

Waiting for the Wind

Craws caw, blue sky,
Stop sign shadow on the road;
Dog barks as always.








Goat bleats without end;
Machinery chuck clunks by;
All is crisp and cold.

Moss on a tree trunk--
Little knobs of green stick out;
Thrive on sun and cold.

Beyond bare brambles
A rash of red leaves erupts:
Beacon of winter.








Bright red leaves, green pine
Stand together near brown leaves--
Winter's fashion show.

A blue ribbon scrap
On a branch, picks up the sun--
Alien landing.












Hard strong slate above;
A pile of crushed stone below;
One yields to the next.

Lone, large, brown pocked leaf
Suspended in the branches
Waiting for the wind.

Still a Few Leaves Left

Thin sunny branches
Spindle upwards to the sky;
Still a few leaves left.








Bleaching in the sun:
Beige and brown, cut pieces of wood,
Soaking up the heat.








No new leaves to kill,
Tent caterpillar sack rots;
What will consume it?

The tree is for rent,
Any Pooh bear may apply;
Yes, these are hard times.

Solitary leaf
Floating gently to the ground
Lands without others
.







A whisper of birds
Grows louder out of the woods;
Gathers to the sky.

Bright white and shaggy
Three mushrooms shoot from the leaves--
Poof! As with magic!

Among bare branches
Pale white seed puffs wait their turn;
Still, they're holding on.