Behind the bare trees
broad strokes of platinum cloud
frost on bird feathers
Category Archives: light
Treescape
The wolf throws her head back to howl
rising out of crystal spikes and mimic trees
a night when even lynx furred feet
will freeze on snow
glass visited in the dark by shapes the woods hurl
quick half life images for the next morning
with one of them shouting at the sky
First look
A morning pink comet
streaks the sky from left to right
the sun still floating up
the mountain’s eastern ridge
reaches up to slit the tail
its beam sharp enough
to cut through falling silk
Haiku for today
Late afternoon light
golden beech leaves almost turned
lantern lights the woods
Insistent messenger
A mourning dove in my apple tree
looks through the window
its message meant to prod
sun shrinks as the cold returns
woods maple tops spike leafless now
bronze oaks and candle beech stand guard
water lilies sink into the pond again
a scooped out moon brings frost
bears already denned up the hill
not quite past time for seeds but hurry
or jays will bring their beaks
Question of absence
Can a vacuum exist
without the memory
of that which it expelled
to give it shape?
Surely it can’t be
a true void if it has
held love.
Sun 1
What brings you to your knees sun
on mornings when you flee the other world
and mask yourself with cloud
flattening the day’s light into scrim
I feel certain of your grief
and lie resigned to graying tears
running down a window cheek
the house dogs take dimness
as a time to sleep
so there is that
stanza 5.14
Opening the door I lean
to smell the subtle trail of spring
it is the time of violet night
of fading monochrome
when the other half of my heart
beats in echo time
slipping through the layers
of descending dark
to leave its kiss
Mountain top
Stars begin to drop
into the growing dark
of a clear night sky
as I come down the
mountain to our woods
the path familiar
my feet sure in waning light
I went up alone craving you
the burn cleared granite
comfort warm at sunset
words escaping
into the rising drafts
as song
wait for me
I will be there given time
Haiku for a spring Monday
tree crowns washed by sun
dawn’s point of gleam inching right
buds are not ready
A way through
Birds perch on the balding arms
and bud knobbed fingers
of the kitchen door apple tree
There is a flashing gleam
from the eye of a jay
the sun finding unlikely passage
My mind blinks in disbelief
that such a thing could be
My heart knows better
and begins to sing
Haiku for a March Friday
silver cloud fingers
swift birds fly across the wind
dawn light rising cold
Life With Horace 