Poem Category: All

Almost home

in the high cool country

our Pine scented street

Zen garden…

the bonsai too drawing

its first spring sap

Passing fruit bat

the moon in a birdbath

bringing her near

Prison walls…

the silence given

to falling snow

Cafe‘ breakfast…

stirring around sunrise

the autumn winds

Emerging sun

letting the sail board race

paint the lake

Sunday morning

a tiger moth in danger

of my mower blades

Spring sprouts a sunflower

leaving the garden stones

in their dank black earth

Autumn wind

closing Tennyson

on a maple leaf

Stopping me

photographing the lorikeets

an Emperor moth‘s arrival