And the Fickle Wind

 

Crisp Sunday morning;
Owl is melting into tree;
Soon it will be gone.

 

My rhododendrons,
So thick and green and shiny,
Reach above the roof.

 

 Fall may be coming;
Still the lush green locust tree
Fills up half the sky.

Stream shadows ripple;
Their light is ruled by water
And the fickle wind.

 Shouting from the fence,
Violet thistle flower screams:
"Look! But don't dare touch!"

 

 Forest near the fence:
Tiny universe of green
Unfolds near my toes.

 

Who is this Bryan?
And what is his project?
So many questions.

 Since last Christmas time
Dead tree lies at the road side.
Look! There is still green!

 

Wings over driveway--
Large dark birds rise to the trees,
Like flying shadows.

 

A Cut of Autumn

Flickering sunlight
Lights up patches on the lawn;
Breeze shakes the lit leaves.

 Bird swoops down and up
Lightly skims over the grass,
Searching for a meal.

 

Shadow on the barn,
Leaning with the old ladder;
All is cool and crisp.

 

 A shadow passes--
It's a flying falling leaf,
Heading towards the ground.

 

   


Shaking in the woods;
Distant calling of some crows;
Trees rustle in wind.

 

 Bright blade of orange
Slices down between the green:
A cut of Autumn.

Car chirps behind me;
We wave as he passes by:
Anonymous friend.

Snorting happily
A tractor passes me by
Into the shadows.

Everything's Subdued

 Humid sunny day;
Leaves are shaking in the breeze;
Weeds twisting on porch.

 

Thousand shades of green,
Lit up in the morning sun;
Everything's subdued.

 

My porch top garden,
Not planned, tended by me,
Blossoms mightily.

Pulled up by the shade
Of the giant maple tree,
Girl swings to the sky.

Three young girls talking,
Each speaking with her body;
Posing her statement.

The sun is hiding;
Dead tree limb lies on the road;
There's only silence.

Cool, soft breath of wind
Plays across my sweaty brow:
Air conditioning!

Last poem in this book;
It's my twenty-third notebook.
On to twenty-fourth!

No snow flake on ground;
Where is this Northeaster storm?
Two blue jays play tag.

It's Catching the Sky

Softly falling sun
Drifting through the high green leaves
Down to reach the lawn.

 

 School buses slide past
Humming a soft swishing sound;
I look out window.

Hanging above barn--
Solitary silver pail;
It's catching the sky.

Faintly murmuring,
Kids talking inside the house:
Home schooling voices.

The warm moist morning;
Insects collect in the shade
And around my eyes.

Crossing the great road:
Fuzzy bear on its journey
Into the unknown.

Standing tall as life
The brown not evergreen
Doesn't know it's dead.

My friend Peter comes;
Fifty-five years we've been friends;
Surely a lifetime.

Transient Mosaics

 Flowers on the lawn
That I've never seen before,
Clumped in a corner.

 

 Back to school today,
But not me for a long time.
Thank goodness for that!

 

 On my own front porch,
Spider web has caught a leaf.
Way to go spider!

 

 Foot behind grandma;
Little legs barely peek--
Annika's hiding.

 

 One skeleton tree--
All the leaves have disappeared.
Winter's harbinger.

 

 Powder puff flowers
Bursting in pure white last Spring;
Slightly browning now.

 

On trees, road and stump
Shadows paint the surfaces:
Transient mosaics.

 

 

 

 Distant plane's roar
Far, and foreign to this place
Disappears swiftly.