Waiting to Be Found

Shadows on the log,
Leaves suspended above it.
There's no effort here.










From the shuttered barn
A rooster cackles and clucks;
Then, the hens comment.

A moment of shade--
Trellis of shadows on road;
Temperature just right.










Frantically buzzing
Bee attacks three Queen Anne's Lace.
None of them seem right.













Elusive pathways
Light their way into the woods
Made of sun and shade.












Starry white clusters
Peek out from the wood's shadows
Forcing me to see.

Lying on the road:
Globular seed universe
Waiting to be found.

Passing car window
Small dog sniffs and regards me,
Minding its business.

At the dry stalk's peak
Yellow flowers are blooming.
Best late than never.

Silent Harbingers

Darkness, light and warmth
Scattered in the fields and woods.
Now the munching goat.

Goldenrod clusters;
Shiny silver filaments;
A blue cloudless sky.












Even the dog's late,
Lulled by the tranquillity,
And barks when I'm past.

A shock of red leaves
Hangs over the pickup truck
As if from nowhere.












Red among the green--
Autumn's palette emerges,
Silent harbingers.










In the far windows
Of the wrecked abandoned house
Four bottles watch out.









How the bugs love shade;
They buzz in my ears, nose, eyes.
(I'm disturbing them?}

A lone cricket sings;
A squirrel rustles up a tree;
Distant lawn mower.

A frog and a snake
Poised stock still by the roadside.
One's alive; one's not.

Going and Coming

Pine cones in the road;
Are they finished with summer?
Nearby, a dead bird.












Music from the van;
Distant, a goat bleats softly.
It all fades away.

A web in the field
Glistens sparkles from the dew.
(The sun will dry it).







Forest by the road;
Myriad of tiny trees
Scaled by brave insects.











Next to each other:
Thistle fluff--new Queen Anne's Lace--
Going and coming.

The forest quivers
With a gentle passing breeze.
The shadows flutter.

Dry, brown and bristly
A something lies on the road.
It once was alive.












Christmas ornament
Now hidden behind lush plants
Shines very feebly.









The two old stump friends
Face each other over plants
Unfazed by the change.

Glowing in the sun
Queen Anne's Lace begins to bloom
Sparse droplets of white.












Attached to nowhere
Rusty stove pipe peeks through trees;
Unwitting sculpture.

Darkness Yields to Light

Bright sun and blue sky;
Old red barn doors are open--
They stare vacantly.







The mottled green moss
Clings tightly to the tree trunk
Kissed by the shadows.

Two sides of the road:
On the other side, bright sunshine.
I walk through shadows.

Nestled in the tree
Small white fungus stakes its claim.
It has done its job.

Beyond the deep woods
A sunny verdant meadow.
Darkness yields to light.












The old woman squats,
Weeding and trimming her lawn.
(Grass grows by itself).

Hiding near the road--
Ripe blackberry peeks shyly.
Yummy! Sweet and sour.









Wings oscillating
Dragonfly perches on stem,
Lighter than feather.

Popping From Nowhere

Shiny the slate path;
Queen Anne's Lace after the rain;
Sun plays hide and seek.

A burst of yellow;
Satisfied clucking of hens;
Distant shot rings out.









Jewel weed near the stream--
Flecks of orange in the sun
Near the wet mirror.

The house is shuttered,
No small dog jumps in window:
Presence of absence.









Early yellow leaves
Lie languidly on the road;
Waiting for a car?









Popping from nowhere
Mushrooms congregate softly.
(Can anyone hear?)









Soft violet sumac;
Brilliant blue bachelor buttons;
Frilly white asters.









Now, when a breeze blows
It billows through the lush leaves
And then disappears.

Grasshoppers swirl up
Flying to a safer place
Unseen and unknown.

Until Next Time

Every summer for the past twenty-two years I have left Woodstock, New York to travel to the far reaches of southern New Jersey. It has not been for the scenery that I make such a trip. Rather have I worked at an arts camp for kids, Appel Farm Arts Camp. Over the past two decades it has become a very nurturing place and a place where I grow as well as the kids.

Naturally I will not be taking my walks on Yerry Hill Road until the third week in August. In the meantime I will be making entries on my other blog, Haiku to You Too (http://haikutoyouto.blogspot.com/). For those of you who have come here, enjoy the three years of haiku that are presented. And have a wonderful summer.

Focuses My World

Sun patches on leaves;
Bright dark shadows on the barn;
Yellow dots in field.










Party's done again;
Balloons will hang on the pole
Deflated, finished.








They're fixing the fence:
"Gotta cut down the bushes"
To find where it is.

Every sound intrudes
On the soft mottled morning.
The woods holds its breath.

Daisies daunt the sun
Challenging it to shine bright
So they might reflect.












Stone in my sandal:
Small, knife-edged and persistent
Focuses my world.

The poppers are out
To be smashed on a child's hand
Like a paper bag.












Wound against the tree
Lone clover highlights the trunk--
Single purpleness.