Pausing in the woods
to ruminate about
what aromas to sniff
next in this Thanksgiving
bounty whose scents
are hidden in the leaves
and provided by Mother
Nature’s other creatures.
A Dog’s Delight
Tag Archives: musings
The Tree
Little mouths munching
away on a fallen tree
whose demise is offering
more light in the forest.
Fungi and other organisms
are helping it decompose,
releasing its nutrients
into the fertile soil.
It will take decades
before it’s nibbled away,
long after I have been
released to the earth.
The Perfect Day
The crunch of leaves,
the face in the tree trunk,
(Zachary Hand to God?)
the whine of cars on Route 6,
the hum of a plane overhead,
the blazing maple framed
by a vibrant, clear, blue sky,
the bare tree limbs stretching,
the purple beautyberry
against a woody stem, and
the dog and the pond
all create a perfect day.
A Small Patch of Green
A small patch of green
in a reflection mostly
of dead leaves and clouds
reminds us that there
will come a time when
change is in the air and
new growth bursts forth.
While people are hungry
and aid has been squashed,
billionaires’ wealth increases.
While some no longer have jobs
a garish addition is added to
the People’s house without
their permission. When citizens’
health care is at stake, politicians
shut down the government.
To survive, we must hold on to
that small patch of green
hope. We must hold on.
(Photo taken by me on a walk around a nearby pond)
Reflections
Sunlight shimmers
on a tranquil pond
that mirrors
changing leaves
while a dog gazes
on the splendor.
Sun Rays
Sun rays descend through the
treetops and down the trunks
to the pine needles and
leaves on the ground,
lighting all in their path.
If I change my pace,
get off the beaten track,
I too may feel the
warmth of their light.
To Whoever Planted These Flowers
Your cosmos floating
at road’s edge adds
color to my day in
more ways than one.
Thank you, thank you!
Photo by takamasa okano on Unsplash
The Hawk’s Cry
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A Trip to Goodwill
the sweet-voiced young
man, cap on backwards,
body covered in tattoos,
came to the car, carried
in my donation. when I
told him I liked his tats,
he smiled and revealed
they told a story, his
story. a superhero on his
calf and a baby angel on his
biceps. first letters of his
brothers and sisters and
nieces and nephews on
his knuckles and more
stories on his neck.
the ankle monitor told
another tale, but I didn’t
inquire. we all have stories
that make us who we are.
some we share and some
we do not. before I left,
he said “I appreciate you.”
as I drove off, I sent an
appeal to the universe that
the remainder of his story
be as sweet as his voice.
The Last Lily
In the morning, when
I open the door to see
what delights the day brings,
there you are, pale peach,
peeping up through pink
and yellow coneflowers
swaying in the soft breeze.
You are the last lily of summer,
not as delicate as the
graceful, lacy-edged one
or the one whose sunny
gold warmed my heart
or the one with fire-engine
red petals shouting for attention.
But now, there you are
bidding me farewell as your
leaves and stalk turn brown,
reminding me that beauty is
fleeting and that what lives
must always come to an end.
I would like to have one last
cycle of blooming before
my time is up, and then I will
make way for those who
will grow from my roots
and discover the beauty
that will sustain them
during their own lives.
untangling the web 