Sun paints the tree limbs;
They stand against the blue sky:
Broccoli branches.

Leaning reflectors
Stand opposite each other
Like drunken road guards.

Patches of sunlight
Scattered throughout the forest
Play with the darkness.

Road is bright ahead;
Sun splashed shadows on white house;
Stinky septic smell.

Among bare branches
Birds flitter in the sunshine;
They've no place to hide.

Plane drones overhead
Growing fainter in the sky
Leaving just silence.

It's bright and sunny;
Air is cool and breeze is light.
Is this December?

Bright sun, dark shadows;
Ribbons wave in the brisk breeze;
The stream bubbles on.

It flies through the air,
Soaring, bobbing in the wind:
A single dead leaf.

Red berry bushes
Among bare branches and dead leaves.
Nine days 'til Christmas.

Road is bathed in sun;
Blinding tar lines run down it;
Even dead leaves shine.

Caged dogs are barking;
They're reflecting their master:
Unfriendly neighbor.

Woman strolls past me
Her voice musical, foreign;
Distant memory.

Hawk floats through the air,
Swirling, bobbing gracefully.
Where's unlucky mouse?

The road is shiny,
Trees mirrored in the wetness;
Crows caw in the mist.

A misty rain falls;
Small drops hang from bare branches;
Birds call and respond.

Sky is luminous,
Colorless, filled with moisture;
Plane drones in dimness.

Rain falls in the woods;
Dead leaves catch the tapping drops;
Sports Saab splashes by.

Soft light in window
Cuts through the dark wet morning
But I am outside.

Tapping all around:
Raindrops patter in the woods--
Forest percussion.

Mist on evergreen
Softens and blurs the branches.
Now they're emerging.

Rain catches wood smoke
Swirling it between the drops.
Laura walks her dog.

Planes drone and cars hum;
Traffic above and below.
Blue break in gray sky.

Chickens up the road;
Further down the checked cat sits;
Ducks quack in the pond.

Mushrooms climb the trees;
They form little round white steps
And wait for fairies.

The dead tree trunk stands still;
Covered with holes, dead fungi;
Woodpeckers are done.

The road is silent;
Gray clouds have taken the sky.
Birds flutter and cry.

Dark spider branches
Silhouette against the sky:
Stark black on bleak gray.

Old gray muzzled dog
Looks out under gray eyebrows.
He matches the sky.

Gray road is grayer;
Dark woods grow even darker.
December morning

A soft wind ripples,
Out of place in the grayness.
Does it come from a dream?

Ribbon in the wind
Flaps gaily from a tree limb;
Sun lights bare branches.

Wind across the field
Catches the caws of the crows
And sweeps the sunlight.

Bottle in the stream;
Water bubbles around it:
A clear green stranger.

Dark slats on the road;
Sun shines through the picket fence.
Still, the wind is cold.

Soft motion ahead;
A deer leaps across the road.
Wait! There are five more.

Pale moon in blue sky,
Fainter in the bright morning.
Soon clouds will eat it.

Birds in bare branches
Flutter around like insects
Shining in the sun.

White ice on dead grass
Suspended above the stream.
Stillness over speed.

Long grass is frosted,
Lying white, flat in the field.
December morning.

The brown leaves tremble;
The cold wind sweeps up the road;
Still they do not fall.

Whiteness near the trees:
Small ice patches dot the woods.
The streams are freezing.

The sky is slate gray;
Cold winds rush down the mountain;
Dry seed pods rustle.

The bare tree branches
Reach out like delicate webs
And sway in the wind.

Brown leaf on the road
Poised sharply like a dancer
Waiting for the wind.

Now it it is solid:
Phone book wedged in tree trunk.
Will it outlast tree?

The red barn stands mute;
Three white ducks float in the pond;
Timothy grass shakes.

Yellow blotch on ground
Sticks out on the dead brown leaves:
Bright banana peel.

Early morning hush;
Even the birds chirp softly;
Wood smoke on the wind.

Bare trees on gray skies;
Green ivy climbs the dead trunk;
A confused season.

Invisible crows
Caw through the soft morning clouds;
The air is heavy.

Orange reflectors
Nailed side by side to the tree
Beneath "stay out" sign.

Feathers on light pole
Stuck in metal phone emblem
No longer in flight.

Almost December;
The air is moist, soft and warm.
When will the snow fall?

Statue on the hill:
Old black dog sits silently--
An autumn shadow.

It is darker now;
The dead brown leaves are glowing;
The earth holds its breath.

The trees stand starkly
Against a white wall of mist;
Only a hen moves.

It lies all around;
I try to move into it
But never get there.

Face against windows;
Eyes closed, dreaming of rabbits?
The small sleeping dog.

White against dark brown:
They stick out from the tree trunk,
Little shelf mushrooms.

The air is moist, fragrant;
There are no leaves on the trees--
End of November.

Mist on the mountain;
In the distance all is blurred;
Up close, all is clear.

The tall half dead tree--
At its bottom, shelf mushrooms;
At the top, brown leaves.

Old tree leans over,
Forms an arc above the road.
What force bent it so?

Bramble of branches--
A naked forest of twigs:
Forsythia bush.

Brown and beige on green:
Billy goat stands in the field
Munching on the grass.

Fence and bushes lean;
Helping each other to stand;
Will they ever fall?

Old rock on the hill
Looks out with many faces;
Now watches the road.

Wire in the bushes
Twisting among the branches;
Gray snake in brier.

Moss rock on the road
Facing the wrong direction.
Someone knocked it there.

Woman on the roof
Sweeping away the dead leaves;
It's not even spring.

The sunlit dirt road
Winds dappled into the woods.
Its end is unseen.

Forsythia's gone;
The leaves have fled the branches;
Just a few stragglers.

Small leaves on tree tops;
Alone, they reach for the sky;
Below, bare branches.

Ivy covered trees;
The dead tree trunks are green--
Leafy life on death.

The woods are soggy;
Moist brown leaves form a blanket.
There's a green bottle.

Small beads of water
Hang from the sharp pine needles
Which tremble slightly.

New soft shell mushrooms
Cling to the old dead tree trunk;
Soon they will be hard.

The old junked red car
Stuffed with bags and packages
Has nowhere to go.

Lichen on the trees:
Blotches of yellowish green.
There it covers the trunk.

Slate gray morning breeze;
White chickens peck in the yard;
Two frolicking goats.

Milkweed pods still stand,
Two of them have hanging puffs.
Won't a wind please come?

Red glass in the tree:
Reflector guards the driveway,
Comes to light at night.

Port holes in the tree;
Woodpecker has picked it clean,
Letting light shine through.

There is no breeze now;
Still brown leaves lie on the ground;
Birds stir silently.

A small puff of breeze;
Tiny yellow leaves tremble;
Then total silence.

Mechanical hum
Cuts the silence of the woods;
Bird thinks it's a mate.

School time is in the air;
The crisp smell of fallen leaves.
Bright light on bare trees.

A strong gust of wind;
A hawk glides through the blue sky;
Dry milkweed pods stand.

The trees are bare now;
Stubborn leaves hang from bushes;
Half moon in blue sky.

Sun shines through the woods
Lighting up leaves and branches.
Thousand shades of brown.

Red berry bushes
Shine out in the beige brown woods--
Forecast of yule time.

Cluster of dead leaves
Still hanging from their branches;
Some there in the spring.

Stream bed filled with leaves;
Further up water burbles.
Soon it will be clogged.

The moss covered rock
Has layers upon layers--
A million winters.

Bird like twittering,
Then the sound of grinding gears:
Garbage truck backs up.

White ducks in the rain
Quacking continuously.
What's better than this?

Rainbow of color:
Car oil on the rain swept road.
Metallic rainbow.

Splattering rain drops
Tapping on the shiny road;
The gray mist hangs low.

Bird cries in the mist;
Drops hang like globes from the branch;
The stream rushes on.

Two lights in the gloom--
Car swishes on the wet road;
Then just the rain drops.

Leaf falls with the rain;
It lands soggy on the road.
Ahead a squashed squirrel.

The glistening birch
Pops up behind the barn,
Bright, white, and naked.

Dried brown milkweed pods
Stand together in the field.
One vomits white silk.

The wind is cold now;
Dead leaves tremble on branches.
Hollow gunshot sound.

Scarlet berries peek;
Their bushes are everywhere,
No longer hidden.

The arrow points left
Directing all down the road.
(I feel to go right.)

White puffs on branches
Tremble gently in the wind.
They wait for release.

Pink gauze on the branch
Sparkles but cannot break free.
Halloween remnant.

Gray clouds and blue sky;
Sunlight shifts in the chill air.
I can see my breath.

Sunlight is spreading;
Sharp shadows and glowing leaves--
Then the gray cloud's hand.

Pine needle blanket;
Leaves float gently to the ground;
A mournful bird cries.

The deserted house
Stands hollow by the roadside;
Its windows are blank.

Black dog trots ahead
Waving its tail like a flag,
Then hunches to poop.

Dappled caged forest;
The bright sun lights up the wires.
Light escapes prison.

A ribbon of light:
Sun splashes the stream below
Which murmurs faintly.

Warm Halloween morn;
Bare ghost trees claw at the sky.
Witches are sleeping.

Wood smoke and grass smell;
Warm breeze bubbles with the stream;
Silent bird flutters.

The woods are sunny;
Few leaves block the gentle warmth.
Indian summer.

Bird nest high above
Revealed by the fallen leaves.
Autumn's nakedness.

The blank octagon
Faces grayly down the road:
Back of a stop sign.

Howl up in the woods;
Below ducks quack wheezingly;
Then all is silence.

Everything is quiet
Save the ringing in my ears
(Or are those angels?)

Orange bushes grow
Appearing throughout the woods;
Now is their time.

Sparkling brown leaves
Glitter falling in the sunlight.
Then a bird flutters.

Small birds fly about,
Zipping from bush to bush
Looking for cover.

The moss is still green
Amidst dead leaves, dying grass
Shaded by the pines.

Shiny milkweed pods
Lit up in the morning sun
Pregnant with their juice.

Spicy smell somewhere--
Mulching leaves or forest moss?
A scent of Autumn.

The collapsing tent
Stands askew in the back yard.
Summer is over.

Like a wooden bell
The strange bird clucks in the woods
Soft, invisible.

Web between the trees
Catches leaves, dust, and the sun;
Spider is long gone.

Acorn falls to road
Making a sharp tapping sound.
Where have the squirrels gone?

Sun sifts through the leaves
Filtering out the colors:
Orange, yellow, green.

Scent of fresh cut grass
Wafts between shadows and light,
Dissolves in the sun.

Blue aster cluster
Flourishing by running stream,
Never gets thirsty.

Fuzzy bear on road
Crawls across the gray expanse--
Uh-oh, car's coming.

Laura walks ahead;
Gilda trots alongside of her.
Sun paints both of them.

The wind blows the leaves
Sailing them through the sunshine.
They rasp on the road.

Here and there brown hills;
Dead leaves blown into mountains.
Still the warm sun shines.

The woods have no end:
Sun/shade go on forever.
The soft wind whispers.

The old black dog pants,
Lying in the warm sunshine
Then glances at me.

Bright red berries grow
Near the faded white flowers.
Winter is coming.

Shadow blotched road
Marking where the sun is not.
Leaf floats in the light.

Pickup races by
Followed by a whirl of leaves;
Then other leaves float.

The stone angel prays
Touched by the warm Fall sunshine
And blessed by the breeze.

Bright green grasshopper
Flies off road and into grass
Then becomes a blade.

The lone brown mushroom
Disguised among the dead leaves
Stands softly erect.

Basset in the sun
Lies sleeping and unmoving
Mottled like the leaves.

Cottage door's open
Letting in Autumn's breezes--
Sweet whiff of dead leaves.

Flat rock in the woods
Carpeted with light brown leaves;
An Autumn altar.

Cardinal in the bush:
Pastel red against light brown,
Flutters into flight.

Translucent Fall leaves
Take the sun and absorb it;
Opaque with a cloud.

The woods are dark now,
Sunlight driven from the leaves
Because of one cloud.

A flurry of leaves
Flying hectic to the ground;
Wind roars in the woods.

It's cold this morning;
Sun's lower than yesterday.
Still the rooster crows.

Smells are fainter now;
Just the dry must of dead leaves.
Second day of Fall.

Cat on the stone walk
Freezes as it smells and hears.
Far off a bird chirps.

My shadow's ahead
Stepping crisp into sunshine,
But then disappears.

Sun lit pine needles:
One spider's strand touches them
Seen for a second.

Asters, goldenrod
Grow together on the bank
And share it with moss.

The ancient stone wall
Crumbling around the old tree
Creates an altar.

A bed of clover
Their heads turned to face the sun
Don't even see me.