a warm breeze
spring brushes against my cheek
still snow beneath our feet
Snow And Sunshine
Snow Garden
with color subtracted
beauty solely articulated
in line and form
March The Month Of Everything
both snow and ice
with water running free
blue sky and clouds jostling
Delicacies
the snow like
seven minute icing
the tractor frosted
Step Through
the archway a threshold
suspending the invisible veil
between winter and spring
After The Storm
weighted
white blanket
a cover of stillness
Nor’easter
a flurry of falling stars
in blizzard time
there is no night or day
Housing Crunch
treehouse
with an in-law apartment
and rental unit
White River Blue Sky
the sun on snow
we bask like turtles
where we can
For Generations
in the sugar patch
old metal buckets
wearing their hats of snow
Sparkle
morning light
on last night’s
weightless accumulation
The Playhouse In The Pines
March is a time
of being between things
watching winter through the sun porch window
Melt
only the sun knows
when the roofline
will give way
The Orchard In Winter
revealing the sense
of being solitary
inside togetherness
Welcomed
the softness
and mysterious white light
oh to be enveloped in silence
Waiting
long line of cattails
standing patiently in the cue
for spring
Winter Is A Spider
weaving with cold
leaving an icy web
to catch the days upon
This Season’s Thinness
a winter lean of snow
the ribs of old corn rows
still visible
All Those Times Of Reaching Out
each one mattered
even now
with the limbs foreshortened
Come Home Soon
watching for the neighbor’s light
their curl of chimney smoke
to feel so not alone
Woodland Expression
shadows and the softness
given by distance
deliver an abstracted woods
Through The Window
the view
enhances my outlook
on all the comforts of inside
Moss And Snow
seeming strange bedfellows
yet nestled sweetly together
companions during winter’s long sleep
The Sky Sighs Snow
quiet
falls down and piles up
manifesting the white depth of solitude
Just Two
all that is needed
that other one
to inhabit the world with
Resounding
when the tall tall pine
holds onto snow
I see the echo of every Christmas
Far Away And High
insistently
you knock
drawing my eye
Flow
I long
to take life’s curves
as gracefully as the winter brook
Sensing What Is Beyond Sight
like Mabel
the woods call to me too
beckoning with mysteries and solace
What The Lantern Occasioned
a light
without light
is how memory is made