A Still May Morning

A still May morning;
Birds are muted, plane hums far;
Sky is endless blue.

Stopping and talking
My walk is interrupted;
My heart is lifted.












Nestled in shadows
He strides swiftly on the road--
Purposeful saunter.
\







One yellow blossom
Peeks out from the green leaves--
Small burst of sunshine.









Feathered pointed ferns
Wave gently in the forest
Bobbing in the breeze.

Soft dappled shadows
Guide the path into the woods:
Stepping stones of light.

Siren rises, falls;
Woodpecker's hollow hammer;
All is still again.

Siren rises, falls;
Woodpecker's hollow hammer;
All is still again.

Purple cones, white stalks,
Delicate tiny clusters--
All this on my lawn.









Cat in barn window
Watches cyclist spinning past
Mooing at the cow.

Single white blossom
In a tree full of green leaves
Draws my attention.








Voices from the woods
Soft and conversational;
Distant rooster crows.












Christmas ornaments
Now catching the light of Spring
Tremble in the breeze.










They are all over
In the sun and in the shade
The faint blue flowers.

Just the birds speak now;
No cars, no wind, no voices;
The shadows lie mute.










Yellow is coming;
Dandelions led the way;
Sunny troops follow.

Don't the Bees Realize

Rough winds are sporting;
Clouds chase the sun, lilacs bow,
Shadows come and go.

Now it's dark and cold;
Sun breaks through with warming light.
Each step--mystery.

Field of blue flowers
Ripple as if they are one.
Wind is dance master.

Now the lilacs bloom;
Small purple flowers open
To the waiting sun.

Shadows on the sign
Blur and sharpen in their turn
And then disappear.

Black ghost on a pole
Peeks out as I wander past,
Then pulls back and leaves.

Two patches of white:
Dandelion puffs are here;
New asters are there.

Just why did the bird
Cross the road, pecking, strutting,
When it could have flown?

Yellow metal bug:
Front end loader poised off road;
Waiting for its prey.









It's cloudy again;
How many times has it been
In only one hour?









Huddle of white buds
Bent as if they are talking.
Wind interrupts them.

Don't the bees realize
How sweet the purple flavor
Of lilac honey?

Dandelions Last

Petals by the road:
Forsythia's days are done.
Now it's lilac's turn.

Shadows of the birds
Flash quickly across the road
Not making a sound.


Dandelions last.
While other blooms come and go,
Dandelions last.









Bright white and purple;
Shy blue against vibrant green;
Nature's spring palette.




Next to white seed puffs
New yellow dandelions--
Cycles within Spring.

Once in an ocean
This rock, as silted mud, lay still .
Does it remember?












It survived winter
Baby pine tree near the rock,
Delicate and strong.










Fluffy, it lay still
Blending right in with the road;
Animal or plant?

Blooms are Everywhere

Lilacs beginning;
Purple buds swell in the sun.
Blooms are everywhere.








Darting of the sun
In and out of the thick clouds
Makes it the brighter.

Like gnarled old children
Fungi cling to the dead stump--
Borders of life.









Weren't these just buds--
White popcorn lilac blossoms?
Seed puffs float gently.

Dandelion puffs
Stream past me above the road;
Strange windy traffic.









What does the wind say
Stage whispering in the woods?
"Roll me. Roll me out."

Pink buds are pregnant;
They swell on the edge of bloom.
They're in no hurry.

Climbing up the pole--
Three leaved and shiny ivy.
Just look but don't touch!

A fountain of white
Erupting on my front lawn;
A rooster crowing.









Little blue flowers
Pop up among the dead leaves--
A spray of color.










From a short distance
Fence looks like a solid wall.
Up close it is slats.









The woods are muted;
Shadows pave the bend in the road.
It's cooler today.

A car swishes past,
Out of sight, then memory.
Was it ever there?

Among the dead leaves,
Black form nestled snugly
Lifts its feline head.

Minuscule white buds
Hold tightly to their secret:
What blooms will they be?











Walking into breeze
My memories in the wind.
Dog barks interrupt.

Life in Strange Places

A plane and some crows
Fill up the morning air;
(And, of course, the bugs).

Leaning against the fence
Last year's grass is this year's hay.
But it's still rooted.












By bubbling stream
Small grove of yellow flowers;
Only the stream speaks.












Sparkling on the lawn,
Kaleidoscope soccer ball;
A rainbow of kicks.


All of a sudden
White flowers burst on the trees
Nodding at the breeze.

Woodpecker hammers,
Deliberate "tap-a-tap";
Far morning dove coos.













Mouths in tree trunks,
Fish stare from the living wood;
Life in strange places.


























Fat bushes rustle,
They shake and quiver dryly--
Three small birds fly out.

Talking to myself
Bug finds its way down my throat;
Yichh! Keep my mouth shut!