May 9, 2009 9:05 PM

Just back from a vacation to Jamaica…

Working in the garden under clear blue sky.
Clouds move in from the Northeast.
A straight edge of mean looking sky cuts across my blue. 
Still air here, but I see wisps swirling above that approaching front.
It moved quickly, I hardly had enough time to put my tools away.
Once over head, everything got dark in the midst of new wind and boiling sky.
Rain down.
Tinges of green and  I wonder about tornados.
The leading edge has moved from sight and the grayness evens out.
The wind dies, gray evens out and it becomes just another rainy spring.
After such flirtation, I am a little disappointed.


April 19, 2009, 10:30 PM

A scream in the darkness.
I kept listening.
Still unsure the source, deep into the otherwise quiet blackness.
A sense of sadness washed over me.
I take consolation in the cycle of nature & life.  It’s life force has been absorbed by another.

April 18, 2009, 11:00 AM

There seems to be a new squirrel in town.  At first glance I thought he was a red squirrel — I could see the tint of red whenever he shifted into sunlight.  After watching, I decided that he just looked red, maybe a young squirrel, but really belonging to the gray squirrel family.  I hope he doesn’t mind my decision.  His behavior was curious: he sat on a branch, constantly thumping his left leg, making a series of peeps and squeaks that crescendoed into a screech.  I hadn’t ever noticed a squirrel making these exact noises before, so I had to stare at length to be sure that he was the source of the sounds.  The must certainly have been an intentional pattern to his patter.  The peeps, squeaks, then screeches kept repeating in sequence throughout the 10 minutes that I watched.

day-303sounds of frogs an other identified creatures

April 12, 2009 12:45 PM

It’s Easter Sunday and I’m standing on the back deck behind my mother’s house.  I watch the variety of birds that have arrived at the numerous feeders.  A Black-capped Chickadee, the boldest of them all, comes to a feeder right by where I stand.  I see a bright crimson male Cardinal on a branch not far away.  Young Hairy Woodpeckers are walking up and down an oak 20 feet up.  Another Woodpecker lands on a feeder of his choosing, takes away a nut and cracks it on the side of the house.  A Nuthatch carefully plucks a seed, returns to a tree and eats the treat standing upside down.  All of these birds watch me carefully, but decide (correctly) that I am not a threat. I stare at the trees and notice the changing color of the forest.  Those Red Maple buds are changing the scene from gray to red one day at a time.  I can see spring slowly creep in – despite the cold bite of the wind – and the increasing strength of the sun marches on.  A Goldfinch comes to get his share of seeds.  His pale yellow-green winter coat is giving way to vibrant yellow plumage.  The grass promises verdant possibilities.  Even I have spent enough time in the sun to notice winter’s pallor giving way to summer vitality.

April 8, 2009 9:36 PM


Sometimes ten minutes is not enough, or mesmerized by fire


Smoke swirls around my head in a twirling cloud

I hold my breath against sting up my nostrils,

heat against my face nearly unbearable


pine needles flare in a brilliant display of light

the wet bark of a rotting log resists,

fire cleanses the landscape of last summer


dark shadow darts toward my stillness

I feel the mouse climbing over my foot

She retreats beneath decomposing straw


April 7, 2009 7:20 PM

I stared at the trees in dim, gray light glimpsing the quick flick of a white tail.  I approached cautiously from the side taking care not to look directly at the thicket where the doe stood.  She stared at me, muscles tense, ready to bolt in an instant.  I moved  along the opposite side of a brush pile wondering if the obstruction might make me seem safer.  Then, I edged along the marsh reeds slowly until I was about sixty feet away.  She hadn’t moved.  Her brown coat was easily lost against the brown grass.  I stood quietly for long enough that she relaxed enough to move around, but never taking eyes from me.  As I stared, I began to make out the shape of another deer a few feet into the thicket.  I thought of a ‘where’s waldo’ puzzle.  Before long, I realized there were six.  They relaxed and went about there business browsing on tree buds and braches.  Four lined up on the buffet of my downed apple tree.  Fresh buds rarely within easy reach.  With a snap of a branch under my foot, they were gone in the flash of a white tail dancing into the darkness.