Sunday, February 22, 2015

Winter: Dusk

Dampness in the air
hints that spring
lurks somewhere
under all this snow.

But the cottontail
is still and watchful;
he ekes out meager meals
of fallen seed
beneath my bird feeder.

I will watch for him
to not return,
like the dove spurning the ark
when it found dry ground at last,
only then will spring
spring unfurl.

My earlier poems are still available at Poetic Splatter .

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


a passing glance
sparse flakes of snow slowly
one cardinal

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Competitive Acrobatics

                in a V
          through the snow
     downhill to my feeder
          but it's too cold
for birds to fear:
     they glean the scatterings
               shared by
             the inverted

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Three Haiku for Cold Birds

hungry titmice and
juncos enter snow tunnels
made at night by mice

on both sides of the
cedar feeder avoiding
conflict: two blue jays

his tail thin as a
feather the elder squirrel
chases no bird away

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Sunday Wandering

The trees' small round doors:
I would like to knock and call on all.
Who will greet me?

chattering their names but spring
is no closer.

If there are owls I
cannot see them but poison
ivy twists up to look.

Who is this cruel shrub
pushing catkins from their nests
into cold January?

The ice booms
beckoning fishermen and
intrepid explorers.

You hurry and cover
more distance but I walk
and find more wealth.

Early winter,
thin snow, ample red berries,
birdsong and squirrel games.

Wanting to wander far
but wiser trees creak a warning
the storm is near.


Between two days
cutting like slivers of ice,
the warmth of bird song.

The thin snow awaits
its transformation into
spring's rippling streams.

Hand-sawn, fresh split, stacked:
maple, apple, pine, and birch
. . . but for next year.

Monday, January 12, 2015


listening for ice
invisible darkness drips
brittle pines crack