Red cap matching cranberries
the stealth woodpecker
taps out his morse code.

Old Man Frost

leaves his whiskers behind
when he runs through the woods
chasing moonbeams and sunshine.

I said

slow down a little, enjoy the scenery.
The marsh is marvelous this time of year.
But he paddled furiously on
determined to miss every enjoyment in his path.


The bog reclaims the brambles
to feed the fern and bulbs.


When the right breeze blows
seeds will travel to their new homes.
A grand design determines time and place.


Walk the soft path
in the cool water.
It is purpose enough.


The red spire rises.
Nature’s Olympic flame of summer
will burn bright for the duration.


Nature traced the line of every branch and limb.
She favors highlights in white.


In late fall fragile leaves delicately adorn the trees,
their transient nature intensifying their beauty.


Nature is an artist who works tirelessly at her abstracts of perfection.