Last day of the year-
time to part with excesses
and celebrate them.

A sideways twilight-
two more days of December
then real winter comes.

The warmth of the sun
makes me forget December
is almost over.

The broken train cars
litter the field with corpses
of rusted iron.

The wind swirls dead leaves
into piles of brown corpses
animating ghosts.

The coming of night
with its dark blue wind in trees
smells of fresh dampness.

Triumphant sunlight
illuminates Christmas Day
with profound quiet.

Swimming in fluid,
I am sick on Christmas Eve;
a joyoux noelle.

The season for bells-
ringing clearly through bleak skies
some promise unknown.

Sky so overcast;
it's colder than expected-
birds seem hungrier.

Hope had no feathers;
it has sharp claws to remind
you you'll die alone.

To live lighter-
to be, see, and inhabit
much less space, is good.

My dog is running
through mounds of brown, crunchy leaves;
no idea it's cold.

The bleak sky is filled
with the sharp promise of ice
and eye-stinging cold.

The cardnals are back
making the dead forsythia
their home for winter.

I watch the moon drop
as I lay in winter grass
choked on my sorrow.

The winter twilight
is always more beautiful
than I remember.

The moon is so white!
A pale face in lavender
glowing hot and cold.

Bare black limbs are framed
in the inky blue of night;
the stars seem so close.

A little more joy,
a little more happiness-
I can pull that off.

The cold, twilight wind
blows the river into waves
of angry blue-gray.

I don't feel quite well;
excesses are catching up
with my broken heart.

the darkness again
has covered me like so much
soft silken curtain.

There is a moment
each afternoon when light seeps
over me like honey.

Sun fills the windows
making my skin enchanted
with heavenly light.

Red sky this morning.
A red sky last night as well...
what should sailors do?

I am so foolish
trying to make things happen;
I have to let them.

Rooftops smell of smoke
with their rising inky plumes
suggesting comfort.

I awoke to snow;
just lightly dusting all the
last bits of color.

The afternoon gray
was swept away by cold winds
stinging with brightness.

Little yellow tree
still hangs on to the last of
late autumn's bright fire.

I feel old today.
I am footsore and tired
and missing my youth.

Night falls so quickly
there is a comfort in dark
that blankets all thought.

Birds peck the sparse grass
storing up fuel for later;
I must put out seeds.

The sun is hiding
behind the grayish blue clouds-
moon's color lingers.

As dead leaves give chase,
the birds also fly away
from the coming sleep.

The lone yellow tree
hangs onto her leaves in spite
of the frost's rough grasp.

Frost Spreads veins of white-
I'm not ready for this cold;
it's here anyway.

Elegant oak arms
twist and turn toward the sky
free of their green chains.

Otto sits munching
on a bone to freshen his breath;
it's not working yet.

The cardnal is pecking
at the dead leaves in my yard-
a flame in the brown.

The leaves hurt my eyes
with their dying reds and browns;
bit of a hangover.

The pink of sunset
touches the newly bare trees
with a lover's hands.

The stars are closer
now that the skies are changing-
no leaves to hide them.

Pockets of dead leaves drift
in the flotsom of the rain
ushering fall out.

The tree outside my
kitchen window stubbornly
holds on to its green.

Coppery oak leafs
rustle in the evening breeze,
whispering secrets.

An icy, cold rain
keeps me huddled near the fire,
dog and tea at hand.

The light is tilting
throwing sideways shadows on
winter's near approach.

The view is clearer
now; the trees show lovely bones
and the sky's stark blue.

The leaves scatter to
weave a carpet on the ground
of crunchy colors.

Last day of beauty-
I fear the rain is coming
to wash away fall.

The red maple is
like sitting under stained glass
that moves in the wind.

The wasp is dying;
its faint buzzes and shutters
echo in the loft.

The leaves on the ground
swirl around like confetti-
late autumn's party.

The calm, slow Evening
watches as the sun goes down,
taking its sweet time.

Falling back again
into night as black as coal,
can't get my watch set.

The moon wears a veil
of the palest gray, masking
her face from the night.

The oaks are changing;
the dull, glossy green gives way
to the brown of sleep.

A single ringed dove
sits on the telephone wire-
watching evening come.

I expell a breath
like a smoky cloud of fog;
a killing frost came.

Bound by gravity
my heavy feet drag the ground
tired and footsore.

the bare branches lurch
like limber dancers swaying
to the ghost of songs.

My eyes squint with tears
as my old foe the sunshine
shows me who is boss.

The ocean of light
rolls like waves on the morning
washing the day gold.

Light goes early now;
long shadows fall over the trees
reflecting bright leaves.

Arms of waving grass
whisper secrets to the wind
and sigh to the air.

Crouching in the grass
the squrriel approaches his prey-
the plumb, brown acorn.

Lost in the twilight-
moving between sun and moon,
drinking in silence.

the golden full moon
hangs around to greet the sun
and wish her good morning.

It is colder now.
I awoke to find a chill
that made blankets dear.

I am surrounded
by fall's raining showers of
sky-born confetti.

The gray brings quiet
that hangs like a veil outside;
no motion or sound.

As I watch the squirrel
busily searching my yard,
I feel quite lazy.

Rich smell of maple
and the scent of fresh mown grass
fill the autumn air.

My dog is barking-
Waking up the neigborhood
to share his loud joy.

The night falls softly,
with the hushed voice of the breeze
telling me secrets.

Red vines thread my fence
like fingers reaching upward
longing for the sky.

Shadows across the
lawn, shimmering like water-
the sun hides its face.

Clouds bring a soft gray
that hushes all sound with rain.
Quiet blankets all.

The leaves are falling.
The brightly colored raindrops
kiss the waiting ground.

The rain has found us,
gently soaking the earth and
bringing the color.

Night falls silently
with footsteps that can't be heard
no wind stirs leaves.

October 3, 2008

The sun warms my face
reminding me of summer,
and what I will miss.

October 1, 2008

A cup of hot tea
and a seat out on the lawn
to watch the leaves fall.

October1, 2008

The trees lean inward,
with their rough, crocodile bark,
thinking ancient thoughts.

September 30, 2008

Drunk on the moonlight
that creeps in through the back door
lonely and silent.

September 29, 2008

Shadows sound the call
of the inevitable-
frost is coming soon.

Septembar 28, 2008

Twilight creeps around
the edges of the patio
heralding the night.

September 27, 2008

The light on the leaves
spatters the green with gold.
The waking day yawns.

September 26, 2008

Birds darken the sky,
scraping the moon with arched wings -
leaving me alone.

September 25, 2008

The late summer's smell

is tinged with frantic perfume

surrendering green.

September 24, 2008

Dead green of summer,
edges beginning to burn,
with a crisp, red fire.
But for now, everything waits
quietly for the wheel to turn.