white tea and lake mist
a dun flare of ducks ignites
pale swan necks curve north
the wings of a dove
unfold in a cold spring breeze
new words between us
Air, the weight of lead
Copper taste upon my tongue
And distant thunder
Snow softly falling
Glowing white, silent on this
Cold winter evening.
Rain falls like shiny
silver coins from the awning,
tapping on the lawn.
the deep winter sky?
brushed by bare maple branches
still, even in wind
spring lasted three days
chill winds blew--first rain then snow
winter's last revenge
stormy spring weather
I saw your tears glistening
even through the rain
Through wandering clouds
in bold Picasso sky a
half-moon, hand painted
the butterfly's wings
catch a fallen rainbow from
the crumbling storm clouds
waking in a daze
a wasp's morning alarm clock
the cold spring raindrop
hyacinths break earth
snow retreats on mica peak
the first kitchen fly
Green grass shoots of spring
watered by yesterday's snow.
A flock of robins.
just like violins
playing gently in the night;
the cloud shields the moon.
Streaming pine thistles
In the ceaseless breeze. The lone
Butterfly, snooping.
winter storm brewing
angry winds lash the windows
echoing cold words
an octagonal
impression upon the snow
now a "three-way stop"
between pale poplars
in a mist of moonlit blue
a white horse grazes
water sustains life
all around the planet as
a hurricane strikes
The red fox and the
garden Buddha meditate,
their cushion fresh snow.
Ancestors feared night
Animals, weather and now
We fear each other
covering the walk
leading to my unlocked door
a dusting of snow
A lone chipmunk runs
through falling snow beneath the
witch hazels in bloom.
season of ripe buds
dreary drizzle slips away
his name on her tongue
meadow's warm wind swirls
tall grass is a stormy sea
white tipped flowers wave
equinox arrives
white snow melts off tree branches
green buds grow outward
Dove flies through cold breeze.
Lands to rest on soft white ground.
Fades on winter snow.
Sleep and dream my love
Twixt my arms and near my heart.
Your humid breath, Life
the day turned pewter
a warning gust of chill wind
an empty mailbox
Snow rests on branches.
Shivering among bleak breath.
Numb hands let leaves fall.
a cold winter breeze
snowflakes parachute softly
on empty branches
snow early this year
today I cut Father's shirts
into quilt patch squares
scattered to the winds
dusty leaves and lifeless skin
end of a season
Drifting cigar smoke
attracts a squirrel's notice
while I watch the clouds
Bleak winds mask a face.
A veil of an appearance.
Silence sounding voice.
a patch of old snow
falls from a cedar tree branch?
weight of a squirrel