Fleeing its Demons

 

Fat tufted titmouse

Muscles out the chickadees

Who patiently wait. 

Two friends always play:

Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring;

Game is always on.

Frozen road shadows

Lie still in the frigid air--

Quiet, motionless.

All mirrors have fled

From the white frozen stream bed;

Only rocks remain.

The icy driveway

Becomes a path of bright light

In the morning sun.

Mercedes sports car

Races past me on the road,

Fleeing its demons.

All lines seem sharper

In the crisp frozen sunlight.

Silence on the road.

With Pebble Freckles

These squirrels and blue jays

Can't access the bird feeder--

They're too big (and fail).

White the snow blanket;

Black and white the chickadees.

Color disappears.

Filled with emptiness

Dry forsythia husk waits

For yellow returns.

Bearded blind old man

Lies sleeping in a boulder.

Shhh! Hear him snoring.

Beyond the leaning fence

The tiny stream still trickles

In the bitter cold.

Swift cars have splattered

Pure white snow on the tree trunk

With pebble freckles.

Against the barn wall

Ghost's head like a marble bust

Becomes immobile.

The road is empty;

Only my footsteps echo

In the hollow air.

New Year's DayToday

New Year's Day today---

Birds still pecking at feeder

Then flying away.

Never seem to stop--

Endless stream of hungry birds.

Wait! A woodpecker.

With yellowing limbs

Tree reclines in a pose.

No matter it's dead!

Tangle of branches

Holding the falling tree limb

To the broken fence.

As if it's still fall

Dead tree leaves hang to their limb

Into the new year.

At base of the tree

Neatly wrapped plastic bag sits--

Mystery contents.

Frustrated squirrel looks

For where the bird feeder was;

(The one he accessed.)

Booming shots ring out;

The woods sound like a war zone:

Local boys at play.

Last Day of the Year

From walk of December 31, 2015

Last day of the year;

Fat squirrels still try to break in

To new bird feeder.

Snow covers my lawn;

Water drips from the roof top.

Is it Spring? Winter?

Olivia stares

While Colette drinks from the ice.

All is well at home.

Last Spring's pampas grass

Still glistens in the last light--

2015.

Stream flowing loudly

Around the moss covered rock.

Rushing, just rushing.

Mirrors in the ice:

Stream bed gives its own display--

Winter mystery.

Blue-gray clouds close in;

High above the evergreens

Turning the road dark.

In the gray and white

Red berries light up the air--

Small bits of sunshine.

Janus tree monster

Opens his mouth to the year.

(No doubt it's a shout)