The smell of wet wool
in a cool October rain -
Kicking the spent leaves.

The still before dawn:
   Dark silence, then a wind gust
   sighs through the dead leaves.

For just this moment:
sunrise paints the world red...gold
beneath October storm clouds.

Pre-dawn clouds rush by.
The town is dark, still, waiting...
Venus blinks on...off.

The spider scurries
to the corner,
hiding its face.

Mixed emotions leaving
a place with so many imprints.
Unfulfilled desires.

Changed perspective -
   popping Jewell Weed seeds
   with too rarely seen friends.

A photo for all time:
a laugh, a grin, a relieved sigh
  over a final toast.

   Feeling robbed of the payoff.
A card, a bowl of soup,
sunlight through clouds.

Yesterday's pleasant memory:
      bees rising in sunlight,
           focused beauty.

Best laid plans...
   looming thunderheads
   are just controlled chaos.

air like a damp cloth
and unfamiliar bird-song...
but we three know this pub.

Standing room only -
laughing purple-clad people
    sway to the train's song.

Circles of vibrant green
beneath the pines...
     mid-May snow turns all else white.

Pre-dawn mist sways
over the pond...
     mid-May snow ticks on the reeds.

a gated garden
tinged blue by morning light...
                    rapid heel clicks, fading

Morning moment:
through shafts of sunlight
fritillary butterfly passes by.

Crabapple blossoms
spill across an awating garden:
              Contemplating Kyoto.

Lake mist swirls,
Through oaks, past ferns:
Coming into focus - morels.

Shadows of windmill blades
         whirl across the blooming cherry tree:
inconsistent spring breezes.

agile paws lightly
        pad across shadowed snow,
through lines of golden light

         Among the cold pines --
woodpecker drum rolls begin
the dawn chorus.

Newborn palette:
     Innocent greens
     grace a meandering canyon.

haystacks of snow
      leaking and cinder-speckled,
dot the spring landscape.

While we may mourn,
     Death is walking toward the moon,
           having a lovely chat.

Hyacinth in the vase -
sweet scent of spring:
scraping mud from my boots. 

Tea steam, curling;
snow swirls off the Peaks
in pristine morning light.