Liquid Reflection

Early morning mist;
Sun is trying to break through;
Not a breath of wind.

All is humming now;
How silent the house can be;
Everything is sleeping.


Sky is equal parts:
Still whiteness and bright blueness.
Rooster crows loudly.

From forsythia
Red berries burst into life.
Ripping chain saw sounds.

Ripples on water
Shiver the solid tree trunk.
Liquid reflection.

Lichen and moss clumps
Inhabit the barren tree trunk;
Its leaves have fallen.

Sun breaks through the trees
Shedding a tawny color;
This tan and beige Fall.

"No Trespassing" sign
In front of the imprisoned woods.
(The squirrels cannot read).

The Sound of Sunlight

Shadow of the house
Paints darkness on the bright lawn;
Breeze shimmers the leaves.

Green, yellow and brown--
colors of outdoors today.
No red this season.

Shadow of a squirrel
Scampers up the phantom tree
Laid upon the road.

The bright stream water
Sparkles forward noisily:
The sound of sunlight.

Shadows through the leaves;
Dark echo of bright sunshine.
Warm hush in the air.

Leaves fall silently,
Slipping, sliding on the road;
Whisked by passing car.


Brown on evergreen--
Dead dry leaves caught in mid air;
Cradled in the pine.

They are like snowflakes,
These leaves falling from the trees--
First one, then millions.

Snow Memories Have Melted

A light grayish haze
Seems to float down from the sky,
Invisible, warm.

Car hums by outside,
Its swish muted in the house--
Silence magnified.

Chocolate M and M's?
No. Shiny pile of deer shit.
Deer flee the hunters.

Creatures on the lawn--
Wicker monsters open mouths
To catch tired behinds.

Last Autumn's wood pile
Scattered where it had fallen
Three seasons ago.

Chain saw is humming;
Back packed hiker walks ahead;
High above, plane drones.

It's suddenly warm;
Snow memories have melted;
Sun lights up the woods.

They Have Their Own Time

Outside, the world's still;
Inside, appliances hum.
My thoughts are neither.

Four bags of coffee
Sit in the sunshine and shade
Waiting to be ground.

Snow shovel on porch
Waiting for the next blizzard
Through Spring, Summer, Fall.



Tree top crow again
Surveys the world below him.
No one is higher.

Gurgling stream
From other side of the road.
This side gentle flow.

Dry leaves on the road;
For now, no breeze disturbs them;
Sharp shadows are still.

It is difficult
To photograph falling leaves.
They have their own time.

Dry leaves on dead tree;
Branch is bent over sharply;
Still, the ferns are green.

Outside is Inside

Sun through the window
Lights up patches on the floor.
Liz hums a folk song.

Mirror of the trees
Hanging passive on the wall.
Outside is inside.

The whiteness has fled--
Queen Anne's Lace cluster is dry.
How blue is the sky.

On top of the tree
Fat squirrel ponders his next move;
Birds swirl around him.

Brown tree with brown leaves;
Sunlight falling on the stream;
Wave from passing car.


Shadows of bare trees
Dappled road around the bend;
One translucent leaf.

Far off rifle booms
Shaking the sunlit stillness.
Man jogs through shadows.

Refurbished wood bench
That no one eve sits on--
Roadside ornament.

Leaves Rocketing Through the Air

Brisk wind and bright sun;
Leaves rocketing through the air;
Shadows sharp on trees.

Purifier hums,
A sleepy sound in the house.
I nod and then leave.

Alfred eats a branch,
Then looks quizzically at me:
"You got a problem?"



Crossing overhead,
A grid against the sky--
Telephone wires meet.

Lying near the steam
A brilliant flash of orange;
Strange backdrop in Fall.

A leafless forest
Casts shadows on the brown ground.
What's that? A snow patch!

This hanging branch
Has been suspended in air
For over three years.

Dead trees and living
Merge in a barren starkness--
Deception of Fall.