October

 Maple

draped in her finest

 

Undressed slowly by

the northern wind

slender branches reaching up

 

Costumed children with

blooming cheeks

shriek round and round

seeing candy and treats

knowing they’ll return to warmth

For the Birds

I have several bird feeders situated outside my office window. During the spring and summer, there are hummingbird feeders, oriole feeders, and a seed feeder. During the fall, we switch out the hummingbird and oriole feeders for suet.

The bluejays stage in the trees surrounding our yard, waiting for my  husband to toss a handful of peanuts onto our deck. Not technically a feeder, but part of the avian feeding system he has devised. They fly in one at a time to snatch the nuts with nimble efficiency from the deck floor and flit away as the next dives in. I wonder who choreographs this feeding ballet.

The red-bellied woodpecker comes to feed alone. Occasionally I will see him perched on the weathered wooden seed feeder, but most of the time, he favors the suet. His balance seems precarious as he grabs the wire surrounding the suet with his feet and bends his body to peck at the suet, but he is well practiced and has a firm grip.

During the winter we sometimes get other woodpeckers, chickadees, juncos, mourning doves, finches, sparrows, and more. It always brightens my day to watch their entertaining behavior at and around the feeders.

Traveling

 

On my drive this morning, 

I passed a family of sandhills cranes 

congregating at the side of the road. 

 

A bald eagle soared high above

and a hawk flew straight and low. 

 

A group of turkey vultures spiraled 

above a stand of trees.

 

Alone in my car rushing down

asphalt highways, I marveled

at nature in action.

 

 

 

 

mist

 She sashays to

a waltz wafting on

the western wind

       

     Across moonlit marsh

above placid pond

over roiling river

 

She dances past dawn

softening the sunrise and

hushing the waking world

Heading Home

Shadows ferment and deepen as I walk home. I explore the confines of my mind, searching for distraction, even one word to riff with, to spin and disassemble, but all is silent. There's no noise around me either. It's like being wrapped in cotton gauze and tucked inside a bottle. 

My desire to explore is met with stiff resistance and I continue on my path, straight as a skeleton's ulna. Soon, a precious light comes into view, growing as I near. That's when I hear it. A choir of angels. I realize that I have wings and lift into the air, free at last.

The Serial Killer

I approach my victims with stealth and murderous intent. One by one, I pluck them from their destructive and self-absorbed lives.

For the most part, they never see it coming and before you know it, they are struggling for air, legs flailing until they are, at last, still. Later, I will discard their bodies and start again.

It may be a futile attempt given how many of them populate the area, but I do what I can to protect my precious flowers, no matter how lacy their leaves have become. Damn beetles!

descent

 I rush down the highland slope

compelled by gravity toward thinner air below

 

green gold and blue blur

trees bow at my passing

birds startle and

rivers shiver

 

all other sound is lost beneath

my roar