Today - a blank verse poem and two haiku

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]