Seasons – Page 128

air laced with woodsmoke
thick with a rich silence as
the rain turns to snow
–
twilight
listening to
the snow fall

the low midday sun
shadows of geese noiselessly
passing overhead
–
dancing water
a clingy black shift
of morning ice

frantically rushing
worried that I’ll be late for
my disappointment
–
winter’s breath
making the trek
to an empty woodbin

the hours before dawn
weaving my way back home through
the thinnest of light
–
gently becoming
as one with
the winter sky

jagged windblown sand
making a meal of driftwood
in the desert sun
–
just beyond the dunes
a faint whisper of
false promises

shutters hang askew
a cracked and peeling screen door
banging in the wind
–
fading laughter
shards of glass litter
the sun baked earth

a ring tailed hawk watching
the curve of the crescent moon
emerge from the mist
–
the full moon
silhouetted
against the night

lying in the grass
in quiet conversation
with the fallen leaves
–
mottled sunlight
spruce needles
murmur underfoot

come to me softly
slip off your shoes and we’ll dance
in the evening sand
–
mid morning sun
warm black sand after
the retreating tide

budding at long last
relationships long buried
exposed to the light
–
tawney pine straw
a squirrel caches
his winter stores