where the birch are gathered
they talk amongst themselves
sharing the wisdom of their society
Trunks Of Knowledge
Good Luck Found
at the end of autumn’s rainbow
the forest filled
with gold
Lifting The Curtain
a teasing start to the day
with the fog and the sun’s
slow reveal of the horizon
Evergreens
as colors wane
the pines step forward
offering their constant camaraderie
The Fading
the meadow so recently
buzzing and bustling
now nearly a still life
In The Presence Of Departures
as leaves are leaving
the tree’s structure emerges
written in colors
a poetry of absence
Never Lonely
two by two
horses and ponies
exponential companionship
Lace Maker
the log
dressed up for fall
a collar of frilly fungi
The Happenstance Of Circumstance
this side so lush and green
autumn on the opposite shore
place dictates everything
The Transfer Of Color
trees emptied of leaves
so an autumn sunset
colors the sky
Roads To Winter
in the darkness
and the scarcity
there will also be beauty
In The Sweet
autumn leaves
coated with
honeyed autumn light
Fairies Autumn
mostly fall is raucous color
but at a small enclave near the brook
shy leaves blush hues of pink
Call And Respond
from leaves
to ripples
color echos
Crescendo
if colors could be heard
this maple offers
a triumphant cymbal’s crash
Color Hunting
leaf peepers
big buck
the red, red maple
Steel Steed
forever galloping
through the seasons
of the meadow
Skedaddle
back to the deep woods
as the sun rises
bug hunter hunted
In The Quietude
here at this river bend
the past is behind me, the future in front
and I am centered in the current of now
Rise
crows ascend
from the field feeding
only the hungriest linger
Mirth In The Woods
it started as a giggle
and grew into a guffaw
the laughter of this log
Dawning
traveling with the morning light
the mountain revealed through the trees
then the pond shrugs off her shawl of pink mist
so tenderly begins this day
The Days Move Fast
chasing the last of summer
through the young woods
the sun’s rays always just out of reach
The Goings Of September
we wander the waning meadow
stopping to marvel
at every remaining bloom
Claimed
stumped by wetlands
once tall trees
now neck to neck with water lily
If The Liminal Could Be Seen
palisades shrouded in mist
its sacredness seeps into my bones
and I stand in reverence
Told By The Road
the future is uncertain
but for this
together we go on
Begin
the fence
is neither
start nor finish
Three Sky Morning
the day already divided up
the pink sunrise, a blue mid-day
a mackerel bellied sunset
Concealment
the golden glow of sunlit dill
a perfect camouflage
for feasting finch
