A Small Portal to Beyond

Fat birds at feeder;

Gray sky is threatening now;

Brown bushes are bare.

Fat birds are leaving;

They don't just hog the feeder.

(Where did they learn that?)

It's always the cows

Living their lives quietly

In a tiny space.

The happy jogger:

Some days she sings to herself.

Today, she just smiles.

Desolate swamp land

Grows by the side of the road,

As stream waters flow.

The ignorant buds

That swell in January.

(Don't know calendars.)

Standing side by side--

Three very truncated trunks;

They have lost their heads.

Through the tall dead trunk,

A small portal to beyond:

Bare tree limbs are framed.

Chasing the Fat Birds

Chasing the fat birds

Has become a morning game;

Old St. Francis Sarv.

Fat birds are learning:

Some of them come, eat and leave

Like polite birds do.

With its wings folded

Crow seems to surf through the sky

So effortlessly.

Standing side by side

Silent sentinels waiting

For rays of the sun.

For many seasons

This swing has remained empty.

(Baby has grown up)

Snow topped newspapers

Collecting on the driveway;

(Their news is not hot.)

Lichen covered tree

Bends over the cat tail field--

Motion in stillness.

Small flickering lights

Float softly through the iced air:

Tiny flakes of snow.

Who Are These Fat Birds ?

Who are these fat birds?

These bullies that take over?

They eat, eat and fight.

It's bitter cold now;

Sun mottles snow on the ground.

Bird feeder's empty.

Wind bellows in woods;

Snow plow rumbles up the road;

Winter has arrived.

Inhospitable

Cold wind rushes up the road;

(Doesn't pass me by.)

Two garbage pails rest;

One lies against the other.

(Keep warm in the cold.)

In this bitter cold

The stream bed still has mirrors.

Ice has not triumphed.

The deep dark forest--

Still deep but no longer dark:

The deep white forest.

A single brown leaf

Hangs from a slender stem--

Casts its own shadow.

Giant loud insect

Spins noisily through the sky,

Shuddering the air.

Early Valentine?

 

 

 

 

 

 

It looks damp, feels cold,
No matter thermometer
It's a gray, dim day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Bird flies to feeder,
Then another bird flies to
Feeder, another..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Melting heart in snow--
Accident of the winter?
Early valentine?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Pampas grass tussled
Against the fence barrier.
Fence holding--for now.

 

 

 

Within the dark house
Porch light glows like a beacon
In a reflection.

 

 

 

 

This dark cold morning
Even the snow fields seem gray--
Icy mist descending.

Rooms and a chimney
Lie beneath this mound of earth:
Graveyard of a house.

 

 

 

 

Today the woods sing;
Always when I am alone.
(I am hearing things!)

Winter Lilliput

 

 Imagination?

Is Colette smiling at me

Or at her own joke?

Always birds flutter--
Daily breakfast cinema
Through kitchen window.

 

One in and one out;
One in the air, one eating:
The morning bird dance.

 

Looking tight and brown
They hold the secret of Spring:
Forsythia buds.
 

 

The stream seems happy;
Released from its icy thrall
It bubbles forward.
 

The cable man stands
High on the cherry picker.
(News flows from the truck).

 

 Sawdust in the woods;
Some creatures afraid to slip?
So many questions.

Mirrors no longer,
Tiny pond is now frozen;
Circles of white ice.

Small snow covered bridge
Spans the tiny frozen stream--
Winter Lilliput!