tall pine trees
stalwart silent warriors
facing a new dawn
or they’re sages, green robes on,
books cracked to a new day psalm…
through the fallen snow
the large black Crow was walking
almost a cowboy
who was walking bowlegged
gun holster strapped to his hips
twisted trunk grimace
hands extended towards the sky
folklore’s wise woman
hair [twigs] standing on end,
in the bracing cold wind…
tap tap taping
a solitary hammer
delicate small bird
in the wind on the sill
seeking solace and food
When the buds on a branch spring into life
Does the blossoming, the WORK, create strife?
Kicking the ball with its hind legs, the cat
Extends, working its claws, and that is that!
Inhale, exhale, to breathe is a current;
Crashed against the rocks life [my river] went…
Small Shetland dog – black and white – learns to herd;
Homing instinct similar to a bird.
A bird will seek building blocks for its nest;
Twigs, mud, or torn plastic, which one is best?
In the hall of a black and white photo
Doors open, shadows invite dreaming “SO”.
Like the wind, the black birds fly one and all
Casting shadows on my living room wall.
On searing hot days green grass looks yellow,
But within a tree’s shade, heat will mellow.
Contemplating the dark between tree limbs
Creates, within me, meditative vim.
As I watch birds gliding across the sky
Their Silhouettes, their Style, inspires me – FLY.
crystals on the glass
snowflakes, frozen dancers
like fragile tree twigs
waves reaching for the sunlight
disappearing as it melts