Seasonal Limbo

Warm, moist, gray morning;
Brown cow wags it tail slowly;
Everything is still.







The camouflaged cat
Trots across the muddy path;
No one will see it.

Rain is in the air;
Brown pine needles hang drooping;
Drops cling to branches.








Acrid smell of smoke
Floats gently across the road--
Unseen and unheard.

Branches guard the woods-
Entwined, bare and spiderlike,
Catching falling leaves.

Gray slick and snakelike
The old road twists up the hill
In writhing stillness












Pocked yellow apples
Hang from the leafless branches:
Seasonal limbo.












Ghost white and bone clean
Dead limb stands with living--
Tree coexistence.

At edge of the cave
A tiny pine tree stands guard
Against the darkness.

Others Caught Falling

Half bare, half yellow
My bush straddles the seasons
Under a light sun.

With knot holes gaping
Bare tree looks over the road
To the colored hills.

Birds sounding frantic--
Catching late flights to the south?
Or just complaining?

A rippled mirror
Stream continues to bubble;
Dark are its shadows.












Through the large knot hole
A glimpse of the tree beyond--
From darkness to light.








The woods are brown now
With blankets of dead dry leaves;
And, yes, evergreens.

Round, on bare branches
Apples still hang from the tree;
Others caught falling.

Number on a pole
Old faded steel medallion:
"C H G & E"








Caught in the brambles:
Milkweed seed not far from home
Flutters in the breeze.

Waiting for the Wind

Craws caw, blue sky,
Stop sign shadow on the road;
Dog barks as always.








Goat bleats without end;
Machinery chuck clunks by;
All is crisp and cold.

Moss on a tree trunk--
Little knobs of green stick out;
Thrive on sun and cold.

Beyond bare brambles
A rash of red leaves erupts:
Beacon of winter.








Bright red leaves, green pine
Stand together near brown leaves--
Winter's fashion show.

A blue ribbon scrap
On a branch, picks up the sun--
Alien landing.












Hard strong slate above;
A pile of crushed stone below;
One yields to the next.

Lone, large, brown pocked leaf
Suspended in the branches
Waiting for the wind.

Still a Few Leaves Left

Thin sunny branches
Spindle upwards to the sky;
Still a few leaves left.








Bleaching in the sun:
Beige and brown, cut pieces of wood,
Soaking up the heat.








No new leaves to kill,
Tent caterpillar sack rots;
What will consume it?

The tree is for rent,
Any Pooh bear may apply;
Yes, these are hard times.

Solitary leaf
Floating gently to the ground
Lands without others
.







A whisper of birds
Grows louder out of the woods;
Gathers to the sky.

Bright white and shaggy
Three mushrooms shoot from the leaves--
Poof! As with magic!

Among bare branches
Pale white seed puffs wait their turn;
Still, they're holding on.

Misty Gray Morning

Misty gray morning;
Dog barks forlorn and weary;
Kids swing round and round.

No balloons left now;
Party's been over for months;
The field is empty.

There are no shadows;
Layers of clouds hide the sun;
Colors are muted.

Tiny white lichen
Sprout from the bark of the tree;
So easy to miss.











Poised like a statue
Squirrel sits on a slanted log--
Defies gravity.









Now the leaves have gone--
Giant bird's nest is revealed;
There is no one home.

Still guarding the house
The kitty closes her eyes:
"There's no danger here."








Single rain drop falls;
Trillion others are waiting.
Will be their turn soon.

Milkweed pods swaying,
Precarious over stream;
They'll be swept away.

Morning After Rain

Morning after rain;
Reflections in the puddles;
Shiny orange leaves.









Basking in the shade,
The tabby cat licks herself:
"Might as well sit here."












Sparkled by the sun
Swollen streams tumble onward
Swirling, swishing, swift.










Observing the road
The old rock opens its mouth
In frozen wonder.

Pine needles glisten
On the edge of the forest
Where the sun can reach.












Sharp morning shadows
Carve out the ancient tree stump
With a sculptor's hand

Moss on the flat rock--
A blanket of green softness
Against winter cold.

Hard to catch a bird;
They don't seem to like cameras
And just won't sit still.












Two thin climbing vines
Ascend the tall thick tree trunk
On their way to the sky.

Fall Geometry

Brown among the green;
White goats nibble the dead leaves;
Sky is crystal blue.

She casts a sly eye:
The fat white hen stops to look;
I'm too big to peck.








Cascade of mushrooms
Pour over the dead tree stump;
Nourishing decay.

Shadow on the lawn
With dimension and texture:
Witch's silhouette?

Linear shadows--
The trees have very few leaves.
Fall geometry.









Woodpecker rattles
Like little fingers drumming;
Must be a small one.

How quickly they change--
The bright white mushrooms of fall;
Autumn chameleons.

I left my journey,
Disappeared into my mind,
Came back with a jolt.

The Dead Leaves Gather

You can't see the grass;
Leaves cover all hints of green;
Pine cones on the road

Stripped of all their leaves
Spider branches grasp the sky.
Smell of burning wood.

Scraping in the woods
Chicken bob, peck, duck and chatter
Always satisfied.

She carries a bag,
The old lady with the leaves;Pours them on the ground.

Reclining dead log,
Now a host for living things,
Verdant in the woods.

In the cracked tree stump
Pine needles, moss and darkness--
Forest mystery.







On the the thin tree limb
Translucent leaves still hold on
As if they're confused.

The dead leaves gather
In tree crotch, stump and on stone;
Wherever they're caught.

Shiny black berries
Hang from the bare bramble bush.
They do not tempt me.

Visor in the bush
Stuck firmly in the brambles.
How did it get there?