Spring Comes to My House

-family:times new roman;">A slow breaking sun
Peeks shyly out of the clouds--
Morning is begun.












After the deluge
A river runs past my house;
Below the stone wall.

Two robins courting
Leap fluttering in the air.
A break of blue sky.

Small lakes near the road
Are formed by the racing stream.
School bus rushes past.

Sudden break of sun
Lights up shadows on the trees
Just for an instant.












Tearing sound in woods
Not made by an animal
Rips trees asunder.











Wind blows up the hill
Navigating the sharp bend
Rushing past my ear.

Two honking wild geese,
Their bellies lit by the sun
Soar above my head.

A touch of purple
Under the rhododendrons.
Spring comes to my house.

Stream Provides the Bass

March 21

The first day of Spring;
Clouds fill the overcast sky.
There are no shadows.






Some filthy snow piles--
All that remains of winter;
Birds are all around.












Woman and her dog
Walk slowly along the road.
Tiny dog pulls her.












Hira walks with me;
There is nothing quite like it:
A journey with love.












March 22

There are no shadows;
Only an endless gray sky
Broken by car sounds.











Fat cat in barn door
Surveying the morning scene
Sits and slinks away.

A chorus of birds
Sings syncopated and loud.
Stream provides the bass.

Pebble in my shoe
Growing into a boulder
Occupies my mind.

It's time of the moss;
Green and brown replace the white;
Distant chain saw roars.









A filthy patch of snow
Lies next to the garbage can;
Both wait to be emptied.

An ancient stone wall
Stretches down in the valley,
Unfazed by seasons.















High in a bucket
A man saws off high tree limbs.
Chain saw roars, truck chugs.

Moss is on the Rock

Is it Spring time yet
That spreads across snowless fields?
We're two days early.

The light is different
As it touches the barn wall.
Rooster keeps crowing.

A gentle bleating
Comes from a nearby shelter:
New kid on the block.










The snow is all gone;
Stout weeds have reclaimed the field;
Moss is on the rock.

Woodpecker's busy;
Bird chirps in morning light;
Sun sculptures the fence.








Magic lawn returns
Where it waited under snow
For its Spring release.










Monster in the woods
Has chewed up the old gnarled tree
Without eating it.










Spring is really here:
My family stops to say hi
On its way to breakfast.

Dark Skies in Morning

Dark skies in morning
For the end of a season,
Just ebbing away.

Blue sheen on the road;
Shiny mirrors in the pasture;
Wind whispers behind.


Crow won't stop crying
As it soars from tree to tree,
Looking for some place.

A cold misty rain
Falling ghostlike on the road
Makes a faint patter.












Two balls on the grass,
And the tiny patch of snow
That looks like paper.

Little green monster
Landed at side of the road,
Sits there watching me.










Now it is revealed
The lush green spreading ivy
Under melting snow.







Last mullein's mullein
Uncovered flat on the ground
Near the beer bottle.

The Earth is Waiting

Gray and dark as dusk
Limbs shake in this morning gloom.
The earth is waiting.










The gate is open--
Mabel comes to see the world
Following her nose.

Where once there was snow
Now there is moistened brown earth,
And streams become lakes.










A sparse pile of wood
Lies under the melting snow.
Crows fly here and there.










Waterfalls appear
Between the cracks of the rocks,
Swell into torrents.


As swift as it came
Snow is rapidly leaving
And joining the rain.








Faint sound of water--
Through the roots of the old tree
A small stream has sprung.

Under an ice shelf
Instant roadside stream spills down
Leaving its roar.

Transit Gloria

It's gray and heavy;
Rain's just a matter of minutes;
Birds chatter, cars rush.

Silhouetted trees
Reach for a heavy slate sky.
Hens won't stop clucking.











A small instant pond
Reflects trees and and sky above.
The theme is water.










Dead branch and ladder
Lean against he broken barn,
Near the dirty snow.










Even in gray light
The moss lawn is still magic
Below crying crows.

Line of grayish white--
The snow banks have wed the road.
Soon they will join it.






Hanging from a branch--
Single clump of frozen snow;
Neither here nor there.












High up on the hill
Solitary patch of snow.
Transit gloria.

Washing of the Earth

Slowly receding
The snow pulls back from the road
To lie in the field.

The stream is swollen
As it flows past my garage.
Sweet smells and gray sky.

Smoke from the chimney
Merges with the blue gray sky.
Where does one begin?

Old tracks in the snow
Have melted and expanded.
Soon they'll be the field.









As the snow bank leaves
The fence waves a fond farewell
Struggling to stay up.










Woods are turning brown;
Gray sky promises more rain.
Washing of the earth









A single puddle
Mirrors the side of the road;
Brings the sky to earth.

Debris of the storms
On the road, field and the woods.
Above, crows argue.