i never can remember what comes after
the path into the pines, whether
the trail loops back to its beginning
or winds even deeper into the woods.
All articles filed in nature poems
honey yet to be
the bees are at the zinnias,
fuzzy bodies buzzing
among pink-freckled petals
osage orange
the old osage orange hedge
still marches perpendicular to the road
marking the boundary line of a farmstead
long since swallowed up by atomic age homes.
midsummer
this will not do justice
to the white crescent of moon
glowing in the blue twilight,
nor bright venus shining
through the humid haze
the first tulip bloomed today,
golden as butter,
and i wished i could show you
its delicately frilled petals
i wish you could show me the spring
i wish you could show me the spring —
wildflowers waking up on the creek bank,
catkins greening at the slender ends of oak branches
bared
in winter the trees
show their secrets
new year in mill creek wood
the sister sycamores were waiting
in the wood this afternoon
spirea
at the little grey house on the corner
the spirea has begun to bloom,
delicate white blossoms creeping mistily down its long, slender branches.
april showers
after weeks of dry weather —
or merely a tease of moisture in the form of fog
or snow or sleet or drizzle —
the spring skies have finally broken open