winter’s grip
of blue cold
loosened by fern fronds
The Woods Still Hold Snow
A Bit Of Green
in a world
gone nearly brown
a clutch of fern is found
A New Way Of Being
brittle and brown
a mirror
for light
Glancing Back
you notice me
eavesdropping on
your song
The Garden Before Bed
still in service
the watering can
and birdbath-dog-bowl
Fern’s Filagree
fronds
scissoring shapes
into negative space
All Of Autumn
taking place
in a puddle
on the ground
Through The Darkness
the world awaited us
growing and blooming
summoning us back home
Grace
humbly
basking in
divine light
Curlicues
each frond
a question
just forming
The Painted Fern
a perfection
of details and form
waiting to be discovered
Wander
down by the vernal pool
where the big mushrooms
grow
They Are Dancing
from the bench
we watch
firefly flowers
In This Liminal Time
each morning
with the flowers
sweet dreams linger
Making Music
all the peepers
dance
to the fiddlehead’s tune
Snow Fern
browned fronds
their intricacies
flocked
Forest Of Fern
everything rests
upon
proportion’s perception
Skipper
stay close
there are dangers
in the delicious garden
Interval
do nothing
see
everything unfold
With Neither Seeds Nor Flowers
Fern’s
curly world
unfurling
Thin Ice
suspended on
the surface of things
seeking a breakthrough
Maiden Hair Fern
the fairest
of them
all
Maple on Birch
at meadow’s edge
maple turns
summer’s page
Half and Half
sun falls
on the fern’s
summer side
Serrated Shade
saw toothed
shadow
carving granite
Zen Garden
a pattern
of breath with
stillness in between
Wood Bone
sun bleached
tree’s remains
the landscape’s carcass
Destination Found
the forest’s
magic carpet
rooted to the ground
Emerald Wall
barrier embraced
hard edges softened
by a majesty of moss
Carapace
the fern
tortoise shelled
winter’s slow approach