we journey
towards each other
open hearted
May It Be Every Day
Field Of Dreams
the many many seeds
now gone to bed
to dream and conjure up our spring
To Leave Is To Return
in the season
of seeds
everything is giving
Corn Tassels And Clouds
room to billow
in a wide blue sky
summer’s arms still open
The Day Starts With Conversation
crows
in the field
morning corn klatch
Summer Morning
an invitation
to linger in
a long lazy day
Finally The Sun Came Out
after so many days of rain
there is warmth and light
and the earth rises up
in color and hope
Morning Rounds
senses cocked
in stillness
until the pounce
With Less, More
white and grays and blues
the ground and branch and sky
expressing winter’s intricate simplicities
Yankee Thrift In The Granite State
fence posts of
granite and tree trunks
we use what we have
A Bit Of January Thaw
the field snow thins
river ice recedes
warmer air
passing through trees
Bare Ground Blue Sky
opportunity taken
the farmer feeds
his fallow field
The Approach
off in the distance
winter is a train loaded with cold
closing the miles between us
Above Below
the sky and the river
together holding
onto the clouds
Small White Goat
having cleared the field
of thistle and thorn
a full belly-ed rest
Round Bales
the hay harvest
rolling in
like a weather front
Preparation For Fall
meadow, mountains, sky
intensify their colors
as shadows grow deeper
The Geometry Of Corn
in the field, parallel to each other
at the table, perpendicular to the butter dish
discarded cobs form a geodesic dome
Wait Together
fog has made
the world small
but still big enough
Lazy Days
summer rests
by the roadside
tall grass and clover
Diversion
the beavers’ work
the field now
a vernal pond
Lifting The Curtain
a teasing start to the day
with the fog and the sun’s
slow reveal of the horizon
Skedaddle
back to the deep woods
as the sun rises
bug hunter hunted
Rise
crows ascend
from the field feeding
only the hungriest linger
Old School
naked square bales
no plastic marshmallows here
the only white is wildflower bloom
Told By The Road
the future is uncertain
but for this
together we go on
Summer Afternoon
these clouds carry
shade not water
and still we are thankful
We Grow, Grow, Grow
contrary to their neat rows
the seedlings desire
of life is feral
The Daring Of Dreams
such grey April skies
some trees barely dare
to dream of leaves
The Blue Sky Tries
still some snow
as the field softens into mud
this is the season of small beginnings