The ancient phone book
Is still stuffed in the tree crotch.
Nobody's calling.

Lone purple clover
Stands on a sea of brown leaves.
How long will it last?

Soft green mullein plant
Spreads out its welcoming arms:
"Come, I will heal you."

White thorn branches bend;
The tempting berries are gone.
Now there's just prickles.

Washer in the woods
Awaits another season
But never sees clothes.

Where is my old pen?
Dropped into the dead brown leaves;
In oblivion.

High in the bare tree
A large bird's nest is revealed
No longer hidden.

Neat stack of cut logs;
Gray smoke puff from the chimney;
Spice smell of burnt wood.

Dead leaves on the tree
Still clinging to the branches.
Will they ever fall?

Four leaves on a tree;
Just a gust of wind will do;
Then the tree's bare.

Small purple flowers
Peep out from the sea of brown.
They make their last stand.

Sky and earth are still;
Something's bound to start falling.
Is it rain or snow?

Last leaf on a branch:
Will not be there tomorrow.
Just a puff of wind.

The grizzled black dog
Looks up and gives me a glance.
We are silent friends.

Lost in the brown leaves
My small silver bullet pen.
It's gone forever.

Leaves are skittering;
They dance in the cool sunlight,
Then one slaps my mouth.

Leaf slides to the ground,
Gently, slowly it descends.
Then, a burst of wind.

A bright glistening:
Something sparkles on dead leaves.
Ah, it's a beer can.

Spice smell of dead leaves;
The sun paints the trees yellow.
Chickens are clucking.

Burbling, whispering,
The stream races through the woods;
Where is it going?

The trees are naked;
Now deep woods are visible.
Still, there's mystery.

The marsh is still green;
Nearby, leaves float from the trees.
Two worlds, side by side.

Brightly glowing tree;
The sun illumines the leaves.
A breeze sprinkles them.

The leaves are sailing.
They float through the air like kites
And rest on the road.

The woods are silent;
Then a throbbing van passes:
Stench of tobacco.

Carpet of brown leaves.
The deep woods are undressing.
I can see farther.

A high rasping hum;
The chains saw cuts through the air.
A whiff of wood smoke.

A pile of brown leaves.
Through trees I see mountain tops.
The view is longer.

The faded red barn;
Pale moon in the cool blue sky;
Autumn is waking.

Cluster of bare trees;
Almost all the leaves are gone.
Shadows on the road.

A puff of yellow:
The maple lights up the road.
The air is spicy.

Black dogs on brown leaves:
They lift their heads and bellow,
Then plop back to sleep.

Tiny blue flowers
Wilt and droop in the chill air,
But yellow persists.

Shining milk weed pods
Hang full in the autumn air.
Their time will be soon.

The woods are mottled now;
Yellow leaves and brown carpet;
Patches of sunligh

Glowing blue asters
Amidst jewel weed, Queen Anne's lace.
The bee has a feast.

Still and suspended
A dragonfly on a twig.
Then it zooms upward.

The sun hits my face;
In the bushes crickets chirp;
A caressing breeze.

I kick the brown leaves;
They rasp dryly on the road.
Only a few now.

Leaf floats to the ground;
The woods are carpeted brown;
From this year or last?

A warm gust of breeze;
A rain of leaves flutters down.
Brown is mixed with green.

Goats in the barn door
Braying in the morning sun.
Butterflies flutter.

The field is mowed now.
Green and brown mix on the hill.
The air is pungent.

Above seagull cries;
The bird is far from the sea.
Is it really lost?

I sit on a rock
A bug buzzes near my ear;
Sun and breeze kiss me.

Swaying feathered ferns
Cluster together on a hill.
Below: plastic bag.

Between the two trees
Three spider webs hang like nets;
Now they catch the sun.

Yellow goldenrod
Waves gently in the sunlight;
The field is brightened.

Not all trees are green;
Yellow leaves catch the sunlight.
A brown one falls down.

A paper doll lies
Staring up at the blue sky
Surrounded by grass.

Cobwebs in the grass
Sparkle in the morning sun
Catching the dew drops.

Table saw buzzes
Cutting through the morning light
Then even that fades.

A car purrs softly;
Overhead a plane drones on.
Then, just the cricket.

A red car roars past;
Brown leaves scatter in the road;
Frog plops into grass.

Hollow shots echo;
A leaf shudders to the ground.
There's no connection.

Leaves shine in the shade;
The sun has not yet reached them.
Soon they will be dry.

Brown leaf floats slowly;
A bird calls from the treetop;
Bug buzzes in my ear.

A big gray horsefly
Sits in the shade of the road.
I leave it alone.

Startled bird rises
Fills the air with fluttered sounds.
Then stillness again.

Black dog in shadows
Lies down merging with darkness.
Anonymous peace.

Leaf congregation
Gathered on the sunny road.
Butterfly shadows.

Where do the woods end?
Green and dark go on and on.
A woodpecker pecks.

Brown leaf on the road
Lost among the dark shadows.
Wait! There's another.

Hoo Hoo Hoo Krek Krek
Birds talk in the morning sun.
Squished rabbit on road.

Dove on a phone wire
Sees me and flutters away.
A fat van roars by.

Birds call far away;
Bees humming break the silence;
Bugs dart in the sun.

Web between two trees
Catches the morning dew drops.
A gossamer net.

Green briar bushes
Guard the entrance to the woods.
Just go around them.

Woods smell moist and rich;
Shadows compete with sun
And find silent truce.

Insects are humming;
A cricket rushes madly.
Watch out for the truck.

Pop. Pop. The white ball
Clicks across the green table.
Outdoor ping pong game.

The silent sun falls;
Woods, road, sky--all are quiet.
Just my mind chatters.

Sparkle of orange:
Jewel weed plants dot the roadside.
Guardians of Fall.

Soft light in the woods;
Leaves catch the falling sun beams
And drop the shadows.

Happy crickets chirp;
Shadows fall upon the road.
Sun is warm and soft.

Leaves are shimmering;
Gently the sun shines through them.
A lone bird twitters.

How quiet is the woods;
Sun patches fall silently.
Chain saw rips through it.

Sun bright in green fields;
Stalks of yellow radiate.
Goldenrod again.

Road shadows quiver;
Warm breeze shakes the sunlit trees.
Leaves skitter and slide.

Noiseless butterfly
Flutters over the still lawn;
Flowers sway in breeze.

Weaving wire fence;
Twists glistening through the woods.
A gated forest.

Trees touch overhead;
Below, the road is cool, dark.
A moment's relief.

Worm crosses the road;
It wriggles in the sunlight.
Will it get across?

Zebra grasshopper
Flies above the shadowed road.
Sure sign of Autumn.

Tiny pine tree sways;
The sun glistens each needle.
Beer bottle on ground.

The woods seem endless;
Sun and shade pattern the ground.
One leaf floats downward.

The smell of warm grass;
A light breeze tosses my hair.
Nearby, hammer pounds.

Now there is a breeze;
Sunlit leaves tremble softly.
Which one will fall first?

Light climbs the mountain;
Sun patches light up the woods.
A ringing stillness.

A Queen Anne's lace plant
With hundreds of small flowers
Smiles at the sun.

Tree stump in the woods
Surrounded by baby pines.
Soon it will be gone.

A white butterfly
Alights on a white flower;
Both bathed in sunlight.

A blue dragonfly
Flutters between the shadows.
A crow calls three times.

Deep and dappled woods;
Sun illuminates the leaves;
There is just silence.

Everything is still;
Even the stream is quiet.
Startled quail flutters.


Light blue chicory
Sprinkles the edge of the road;
Nearby cricket chirps.

SEPTEMBER 5, 2005

It has been over two months since I have walked Yerry Hill Road. As probably the only person who leaves Woodstock for the chicken farm country of southern New Jersey every summer, I miss the months of July and August here in Woodstock.

But now I am back on the road again. The season is changing and so are the sights along the road. And so are the haiku.

For all of you millions of readers out there. Or for the one or two of you who may have stumbled onto this site. I leave Yerry Hill for two months for the flatlands of southern New Jersey. So here is my last post until the end of August. Happy summer to all!


First clouds and then light,
Gentle breeze brings back the sun.
Butterfly flutters.

Red and orange splash:
Bright colors on the gray road.
Squashed butterfly.

The stream is chortling
Racing headlong to the woods.
It is darker there.

How still the woods are,
Not even a wind's whisper.
Only my breathing.

Sleek Mercedes turns
And drives past its fenced in woods,
Secure from all life.

The sky is gray now;
The grass scented breeze is cool;
Look! Patches of sun.

Incessant chirping,
Unseen bird chatters madly.
Chain saw buzzes alive.

Burst of blue flowers;
Beige mushrooms on dead tree trunks;
Gnats fly in my eyes.

Dandelion puffs
Stand lightly in a circle
Nodding fuzzy heads.

A breeze touches me;
Birds sing and the sun is soft.
A power line hums.

It's a soft morning;
Shadows lie across the road.
A tree sways gently.

White puffs from the sky:
Seed pods fall swiftly downward
To the hard gray road.

Crumpled near the road
Rusty sign covered by green:
"This land is for sale".

Washer in the woods
Survived another winter.
Doesn't look so old.

In the sky one cloud.
It peeks through the tree branches.
A distant plane hums.

Gay puffs of yellow
Soak the sun and light the fields.
They bow in the breeze.

Long, slow line of cars:
A funeral procession.
In one, a friend waves.

Blue blooms in the shade
Add mystery to the woods;
Bird melts into them.

Delicate petals,
Small white flowers grace the road.
Loud sound in the woods!

The leaves are still now;
Sun's rays glow softly through them.
Now they are dancing.

The wind is hollow;
It whispers through the forest
And trembles the leaves.

Lilacs are shaking;
They share their sweet purple smell
With no thought of thanks.

The old brown dog sniffs;
He sees me and runs away,
But comes back to sniff.

The old dog trots by,
Glances at me and goes on.
Two May travelers.

A fence in the woods;
Wire mesh weaves through the forest.
The jailed trees peek out.

White puffs stream past me:
Dandelion seeds en route.
Hurry up and plant!

Sun filters and glows
Through trees, bushes, leaves and grass.
Million shades of green.

The road is so still;
Daffodils nod lazily;
A bee buzzes past.

Dark clouds, bright shadows;
A second between two worlds.
Then, no more shadows.

Now the world is dark,
Puffy clouds blot out the sun.
Peepers sing with joy.

On the mountain top
The sun paints the trees with light.
The road is still dim.

It's a yellow time:
Forsythia, dandelions,
And the sun's paintbrush.

Hypnotized robin
Sits at the side of the road,
Sees me, waits and flies.

Forsythia buds
Reach out, yellow, sleek and small.
Sunday's sun is soft.

Sun touches the trees;
Owl hoots softly far away;
Soft April morning.

Building in the woods,
Hammer sounds and cut wood smell;
Then stillness again.

A warm sunny haze
Casts soft shadows on the ground.
All thoughts disappear.

The yellow dog barks,
Waking from his sunny nap;
Then plops down again.

Stream bubbles softly
A breeze whispers in my ear;
A hidden bird sings.

The rooster's crowing;
Goat stands in the sunlit door.
Hen struts in background.

Long morning shadow;
The sun creeps up behind me.
Will it overtake?

Red buds on tree tops
Lit by sun they face the sky
Waiting to burst forth.

One calls, one answers.
Two birds singing in the woods;
A morning duet.

Buds are opening;
The soft sunlight touches them;
A bird sings non stop.

Dozing in sunshine
The sleeping dog jerks awake.
Vigilant, he stares.

Bird sounds fill the air;
The field has a touch of green.
A happy frog croaks.

Lightly the bird darts;
Hops from tree trunk to tree trunk
And peeks out at me.

Brown sphere in the woods;
The sun shines on its roundness.
Is it a puffball?

Small carpet of green;
Tiny forest in the woods:
Miniature pine trees

Young pine tree shimmers;
Sun filters through its needles;
Morning glistening.

There are two forests--
Left side: sun splashed and speckled;
Right side: deep and dark.