Time for New Vision

From Walks of September 30 and October 1, 2018

What can I do now?

Coffee roaster is roasting;

Everything's the same.

It's the same window

And the same trees and bushes;

Time for new vision.

Where do they come from--

These messengers on my lawn?

Perhaps outer space.

Dark forms in the barn--

On the edge of illusion?

Or simply two cows?

Delicate blossoms

On the tip of the thin branch

Over rushing stream.

Fence post bends over

To the leaning dead tree stump--

Close but no cigar.

Less water, more leaves--

Autumn fills the roadside pond

Which still is flowing.

Where the stone wall begins

Dead branches and leaves find home,

Nestled in the rocks.

From walk of October 1, 2018

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Clear sun, yellow leaves

Falling through the brightened air--

Stillness in motion.

Every little breeze

Brings a torrent of new leaves,

Falling and floating.

Rustling of the leaves

Mixes with the stream burble:

Whispers of Autumn.

Empty barn windows

Staring outward or inward

Disguised in darkness.

Three pregnant seed pods

Glow in the morning sunshine;

There time will soon come.

Captured in mid air--

Falling leaf frozen in time--

Magic of camera.

The roadside pond sports

A new green plant from its depth--

Life! Life! Always life!

Climbing up the tree

A series of new fungi;

Where did they come from?

Make the Dark Darker

Mist on the mountain

Has melted into sunshine-

The morning is here.

Blur of evergreen

Behind the sharp dead tree leaves--

My kitchen window.

Last winter's pine cones

Lie in the strips on the road.

Where will they go next?

Late in the season

Bee sucks from goldenrod--

Hope springs eternal.

High above others

Rhododendron plant reaches.

(There always is one.)

Shadows etch the barn,

Darkly sliding up driveways--

Make road mosaic.

One spot of sunlight

Lights up a piece of the stone wall

Making dark, darker.

Standing on its stem

Dead leaf absorbs the sunshine

And glows as if alive.

Pathway to Nowhere

Just outside the bank,

Two deer munching and grazing;

(Waiting for teller?)

Ten shades of sunshine

In front of kitchen window

Sifting through the leaves.

"Happy Fall," he said;

"Beautiful", I respond.

The jogger jogged on.

Instant water ponds

Stare into the sky above,

Reflecting the trees.

Moss-grown gray slate lies

In the middle of the lawn:

Pathway to nowhere.

Dead evergreen tree

Stands before its living kin--

Juxtaposition.

Through and over it:

New green leaves and steel railing--

Soft force of nature.

Many eyes peek out,

Watch with different irises,

From the same road bush.

 

Phantom Horse Gallops

There is no sunshine,

Still all the bushes are green;

Above, yellow leaves.

Creeping on my porch:

Soft, green moss on a wood plank;

Nature keeps crawling.

My front yard jungle

Grows freely and without care;

I just look at it.

As still as a leaf

Tiny bird sits on a branch;

Then he flies away.

Cushion on gravel

Raises some telling questions:

For whom? Why? What for?

Solitary blooms

Spring up above the dead leaves

Their petals dropping.

Phantom horse gallops

Through the delicate branches

Of the dying bush.

Old white bathtub leans

Against equally old tree;

Both missions over.