On this cold clear winter night
when three quarter moon holds sway
and casts on all a bluish light
almost as strong as break of day

Out in a terraced open field
uncovered patches now are seen
for the snow's begun to yield
uncovering the clover's green

Trees, unlike when they had leaf
as entities in the forest stand
by white they're given sharp relief
like marchers in a jumbled band

Susan and I have been snowed in for 4 days................

Of course you know that I love you
but why must you breathe so loud
and every time you come in view
I feel like I'm in a large crowd

I know my rocking chair is squeaking
thus disrupting your slumber
must your lips move so while speaking ?
and you snore like you are cutting lumber

What's that about my new cologne ?
which I use when I groom
won't you just leave me alone
remove Your perfume's cloud from the room

I go now to repair a bridge
it serves the road which runs the ridge.
Just a few boards need replacing
on the floor and in the bracing.

I'll do it while the branch is shallow
now when the far-side field is fallow.
My old truck will take me there,
I won't get stuck if I take care.

The land is rugged on this side
on the other, flat and wide
where crops grow in deep dark soil
thus making this bridge worth the toil.

It's mid-day and finds me out
easing down a dim game trail
wind's whisper has begun to shout
I wish I was still young and hale

Loud squeaks from tree limbs rubbing
in pines and oaks grown close together
they sway giving themselves a drubbing
in this blustery winter weather

The world in gray and brown and dun
except for the somber evergreens
trees dissect a faded sun
as a nearby nuthatch preens

Nothing left but an old well
just off a dim road overgrown
to hint where others used to dwell
and tend the crops that they had sown

Where once fields grew and a home stood
this hole is all that's left
all overcome by hoary wood
of all but wanderers bereft

Whose forefathers worked this land
such a long, long time ago ?
where the tall pine trees now stand
I guess I'll never know

.
poetry
...a poem
and now the world is changed
'tis true
but, do not concern yourself

the flutter of a butterfly's wings
may induce a hurricane
half-way 'round the world

the butterfly is not
mindful of such
nor should the poet be

flutter your dance
and dance your flutter
to the next alluring flower

best speak no more of this

I possess a snapshot of you
in the camera of my mind,
you would've allowed me that courtesy
for it's the best print you could find!

You were standing alone in my garden,
and we both were on the same page,
the only negativity
were the flowers' jealous rage.

Other times, I sneak a look at you
and I can see inside your heart,
where I feel your dissappointments
and the rain begins to start.

Having walked away from yesterdays
quick stepping no longer detecting it's
calm, a sorry disposition this rendered
recluse.

Hearing deafening echoes of events
which have never happened, invigorating
his own solitary existence a loneliness
which was never before possible in the
passing presence of so many.

Now ignoring the hubbub and the clanging
toil, ploughman's furrows once laughter lines
adorn an insignificant face telling jagged tales.

Frost on my windshield
unique crystals now revealed
soon to warmth they yield

January Winds

Cool and clear December nights
And cold January winds.
December cheer and Christmas lights,
Now the New Year begins.

Sitting alone with no-one around,
Thinking 'bout times that's been
Makes your spirit feel so down,
Frozen by January's wind.

Wondering what the New Year brings,
Sitting in my easy chair.
With thoughts of love and other things,
Floating on the frosty air.