When winter moon laughs,
the sky shimmers
like sequined cloth,
and the trees reach
their paper leaves
to touch the spangles,
and the laughter bubbles
downward
to distant lacy roots.
And then one day
the tree,
filled with moon fizz,
explodes in green.
Level, plumb,
measured, planned,
exact on paper,
to eye, in hand.
Line and angle
sure and clean,
no bend or sway,
no weakling lean.
How do they feel,
these former trees,
to be so very
isosceles?
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
My front yard may be small
but in gold it’s very big
ruddy, blushing yellows
on every branch and twig.
I raised my trusty camera
to capture golden riot
but was dissuaded from my focus
by the egotist too nigh it.
I had to zoom behind
to my neighbor’s tree instead
because nothing photobombs
like the high and mighty red.
A window with a view
coveted prize
a break in routine
rest for our eyes
a tree with some posies
quiets day’s din
but sometimes can startle
by looking back in.
We’ve looked back and forth
Crabapple and I
exchanging world views
in the year that’s gone by.
It’s given the kitchen
a leafy embrace
and made my new house
a cozier place.
Lichened old faithful
steadfast and seasoned
shading me from
a world all unreasoned.
There’ve been times in my life
I’ve known a kind tree
that seemed like kin
and companion to me.
Perhaps you, dear reader,
understand what I mean
and also have had
a friend that is green.
When I moved in here, almost a year ago, I knew that two trees would have to come down. This crabapple is one of them. Now the arrangements are made, and I can’t help the sadness. It’s been so pretty, wrapping around my little bay window. This place is still not home to me, and the crabapple has seemed to know that. I will miss it.
Lingering
a reluctant sun
releases day
leaf by leaf
pensive
wondering
what night
is like.
My eye fixed on the ground
I sought the flowers of spring
then upward raised my lens
to capture sky and wing.
That was when I spotted
this behemoth on the tilt
sending me the message
I’m not so sturdy built.
The towering defunct giant
leaned into slender groove
it didn’t take me long
to decide that I should move.
It startles
its unbowed starkness
daring us to look.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
The squiggle tree
grows willy-nilly
carelessly
capricious, silly.
It grew, you see,
while being giggly
so now must be
all-over wiggly.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Noble king
in green assiduous
merry sprite
in lavender deciduous
roots entwined
in plots contiguous
each making the other
happily conspicuous.
Thanks yet again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Curling
Oddments 