Today, I've lopped and clipped and sawed until
another stack of limbs and branches -- red
bud and euonymous, forsythia --
lay all apile. I moved a 10 foot log,
a hollow cedar piece my brother found
and brought to me. Three sodden rugs I hung,
and found a slew of fishing worms beneath,
which I tossed -- one by one -- onto the grass
where they could bury up in dark of dirt.
Inside, I watched a bright red cardinal
perch on the ironstone dish to feed, and then
a peckerwood with crimson head flew in
and grabbed a seed. Brown thrasher stopped, then blue
jay -- each preceded each so only one
was foremost at a time, resembling
a slide show on this mid-May afternoon. [c patlaster, 2009]
rush hour traffic ~
in momentary silence
the sound of a goose [c patlaster, 2009]
chasing
the noisy woodpecker
from gutter downspout [c patlaster, 2009]
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Haiku, "bless you." Good to see your name pop up on the reader again. Hope all is well in
ReplyDeleteArkyland.
Well done, of course. Glad to see someone can and does keep up the yard work. Sure beats deep knee bends and sit-ups for the physique. Reminds me that I no longer have a lawn to mow; sorta like a cold, frosty morning reminds me why I went to college: no cows to milk. BLT
ReplyDeleteHi - saw that you were the judge that awarded my poem, Fishing In Winter, a First - so I thought I'd check your work out! Beautiful! Straight, clear; no smog here. (parden unintentional rhyme)
ReplyDeleteMarian