Long Winters Ago

I go for my walk;
Stella is in the same place
Each time I return.










A soft cold wind blows;
I think of walking to school
Long winters ago.

Laurie's stone pillars
Guard the long road to her house
Past the now mute barn.

Jogger far ahead
Disappears around the bend--
A dark illusion.









The first flakes of snow
Whip from the overcast sky
And land on my coat.

A few errant flakes
Under a darkening sky
Portend the future.

A clump of dead leaves
Sways gently in the tree top
As the rough wind blows.










The two horned tree stump
Sits in the woods like a cat
Waiting for a wood mouse.









Two small oases:
Fir trees protection
Bare ground in the snow.

They Speak in Emergencies

How loud the birds cry;
They speak in emergencies
As the cars rush by.











Trembling in the wind--
Thin seed pods against the tree,
Holding out 'til when?

Back on his tree top
The silhouetted old crow
Surveys his kingdom.

In Spring they are swamped
By a myriad of blooms;
Now they rule the snow.












Shadows side by side--
My own and the two tall trees
Suddenly are gone.















Sun and clouds play tag;
The shadows are dark and bright;
Then they slip away.

Sudden gust of wind
Blows mists of snow from the tree
Lit up by the sun.

A giant black bird
Lifts slowly over the road
Flapping his large wings.

Beats of Light and Sound

Snow patch on the road
Disappears before my eyes,
Then, poof, reappears.

Hooting of a dove
Marks time with the breaking sun:
Beats of light and sound.

Bushes are alive
With chattering tiny birds
Hiding and building.












Prakash walks swiftly
Like he has some place to go,
As the cars rush by.

Even dead brown leaves
Are rendered interesting
With a touch of snow.

The driveways are plowed--
Humans have regained the edge
(For the time being).










Tree says "No Hunting"
But it barely holds the sign
Between its dead limbs.

Footprints are mushy;
The road surface is shiny--
Temporary thaw.

Billions of Them Floating Down

Thick snow flakes falling
Outside my kitchen window
Make no sound at all.

Forsythia bush
Bears only white flowers now;
A winter frosting.

Perched on a white limb,
Female cardinal is waiting
For me to pass by.

White road once again
Born again with each snowfall,
Leads nowhere at all.












Crows cut through the snow
With their blackness and their cries,
Sailing through the sky.









Perched on a white rock
A chubby white sapling sits
With its arms outstretched.

Thick flakes fall swiftly;
Billions of them floating down.
Car tracks are covered.













Footprints in the snow
Head towards me and pass by.
(I had left them there).

Soft Sound of Dripping

Five smashed icicles
Lie scattered on the front porch.
Soft sound of dripping.

Eight above freezing;
Gloves are unnecessary;
Icicles melting.

Cow silhouetted
Under the spreading pine tree
Meditates on Spring.









Even the charred stump
Looks majestic in this light,
Carved with dark shadows.

Snow is receding
The bank pulls back from the fence
With gaping white mouth.












Tiny woodpecker
Hops up, down and around tree,
To find his choice spot.











The old stump buddies,
Their dark mouths now clear of snow,
Free to chat again.

This feels like Spring time,
But tomorrow it will snow--
Late winter see-saw.

Dreaming of the Spring

Single icicle
Shining off the kitchen eave
Greets the morning sun.










Patient stone Buddha
In front of the snow shovel,
Completely at rest.












This giant fir tree
Towers above house and road.
I never noticed.

Pan sits in the snow;
No flutes and no cavorting;
Dreaming of the Spring.










Faint sound of yacking
Comes from the open car door
With radio on.

The stream bed is white;
Soft bends illustrate its nature.
"Closed for the Winter."

How far can I walk
Without seeing anything--
In my monkey mind?

Bird talk in the woods
Goes back and forth just like us.
Are they listening?

A White Earth Moonscape

Shining on the road--
Gleaming bright patch of sunlight;
Pine branches tremble.

Now the sky is blue;
Seasons change within seasons;
Uncertainty reigns.








How flat the snow field;
Weeds and shadows give it height;
A white earth moonscape.

Two kids wait for bus--
A two hour delay today.
They're not complaining.


A cold north wind blows,
But all of the shadows are still;
(It whispers, then roars).












Tree has knobby knees;
Her head firmly in the ground;
Her crotch frozen white.

This is no birch tree
But just a broken tree limb
Painted by the snow.









Giant fallen tree,
Its roots now reach for the sky
In mute frustration.









Milkweed seeds have flown
Leaving the dry empty husks
And long dark shadows.

Before the Snow Plows

Before the snow plows
The land returns to its own
In sheets of whiteness.

Only the car tracks
Show the presence of humans
On the blank white road.








Susan with her sled
Going to pick up the hay.
Some things never change.

Each bend is stranger,
More mysterious in white--
An unknown blankness.












Islands in the stream
Have been sculptured by the snow,
A puffy whiteness.


The soft white silence
Broken by a grating rasp:
Snow shovel on stone.









The totem is white
As it peers from the tree trunk
At the soft blank road.

The high wires are white
As they meet at the crossroads
Holding hidden words.

Snow is a blessing
When you have no place to go--
Wander like a child.









Upright piano
Freezing in abandoned house.
Will it play again?












Even the garbage
Has been left and abandoned.
What a waste of waste.

What Magic is This?

Light streams through windows;
Splashing on the wood cabinets--
A burst of sunshine.

Transformer humming;
Kids are shouting at the school;
My clopping footsteps.









Clear and direct,
Snow tracks point across the field--
Determined focus.

Shadows on the stream
Reflecting up through the woods
Mix with the tree trunks.








A dark shady grove
In the midst of the snow field:
The magic moss lawn.

I rarely look up
To see the strange things growing
On the tops of trees.

It speeds me forward
As I climb up the steep hill:
Haiku for the top.

Worn stone memorial
In front of abandoned house
Signifying what?

No cloud in the sky;
Big snowstorm for tomorrow;
What magic is this?