Clucked Self Importance

Like a folded leaf

Moth is attached to the screen

Never to exit.

Mad dogs? Englishmen?

It's almost the noon day sun;

What am I doing?

Will the sun come out?

It has been tantalizing.

Spring ambivalence.

Where have the cows gone?

No moos and just dark shadows--

Presence of absence.

Pecking in the field

Chickens have a busy air--

Clucked self importance.

Tiny honey bee

Sucks from yellow buttercup;

(Loves him; loves him not).

Gilda meditates?

Or just doesn't want to go

Where the gun shots sound.

Sprouting from the rock

Three young saplings spring upward.

(How do they do that?)

An undeterred bird

Struts across the wide roadway--

No fears and no cars.

Only Its Mirror

A carpet of green

Flows from the lawn to the trees

Lit by the sunshine.

The sun hides its face

For a brief second or two;

(For eternity.)

Rhododendron bloom

Has fallen far to the ground

Where it still glows pink.

With its green neighbors

The dead dull brown fir tree stands:

Life/death side by side.

Only its mirror

Shines under thick foliage

To show the swift stream.

A burst of sunshine

And the road becomes shadows

That flash through the woods.

Between mailboxes

The young sapling has flourished.

(Will it topple them?)

Drifting through the sky

With a look of wonderment,

Slowly dissolving.

Do They See The Trees?

Today's my birthday

And Monday is my cysto.

Mortality calls.

Buried in a bloom

Honeybee gathers himself--

Rhododendron home.

With mouths wide open

They can do nothing but wait

(And grow and fly off)

Log is mottled green;

Lichen has found a new home

On the cut down tree.

Growing wild and new

A carpet growing and blue

Just outside the fence.

Ivy doesn't know

As it climbs over the fence

What its limits are.

Constantly chatting

The two friends pass me by twice.

(Do they see the trees?)

Delicately borne

A new fern is arising,

A thousand years old

Armed guards stand

Their fierce swords pointed all ways.

Beware! Do not touch!

Thunder and lightning fall--

Ice descending with water--

A late Spring abyss.

Was it Yesterday?

Was it yesterday

That the grass was guillotined?

Today--renaissance!

Green light flows freely

And then it shifts to dimness

In flash of a thought.

Robin's back again

Answered by a fainter peep.

Protecting his young.

Field of buttercups

Each one shedding its own light

In the morning sun.

Beyond the swift stream

A jungle of greenery

Hidden in plain sight.

At top of the tree

Yellow oriole is perched--

Its own pedestal.

A furry statue

Stands by the side of the road.

Poof! And then it's gone.

Beginning or end?

These flowers don't five a clue.

(They do not need to.)

(Might Just Float Away)

The last lilac blooms;

Rhododendron takes over;

Robin screeches at me.

Forsythia bush

Has become nothing but green.

White blooms are long gone.

Where is the birds nest?

Robin tries to attack me

With his flights and cries.

Sun and clouds dancing

Moving slowly in and out

Shed shadows and dim.

Birds are all around

Chirping from trees and bushes.

Bugs fly in my mouth.

Bouquet of light blue

Grows ethereal off road.

(Might just float away).

Rotting mother logs

Burst alive in the late Spring

With fungus and moss

Bright yellow beacons--

These flowers illuminated

The gray dim morning.