Gold on sepia:
Pine forest flaunts palette of browns,
         waiting for the snow.

These shadow islands
on a sea of sunshine.
       The pines seem to walk up-slope, slowly.

The wind in the pines,
      an arboreal soundscape
that cools skin and mind.

     Back-to-trunk I feel the sway...
     hear the roots murmur below.

Two crows - playful flight.
   They dive and wheel over pines,
setting up tight turns.

    The wind sings through their feathers
     and sounds just like a zipper!

 

   Origami folded

landscape meanders

   to hazy horizon

      Only a canyon wind

      can whisper so gently.

Far rock edge, blurred -
a giant's staircase jumble
to the river, below.

The sigh of a heron's wing;
    drowsy frog talk; lapping waves.
                    An angler's song floats past.

An osprey's keening
      brings to mind cool lakes and streams
as we wait for rains.

my toes, beneath
   a canopy of breeze-blown
   grass: watching the lake shimmer.

The mist from my hose,
diamonds mixed with dust, rising
from the arid soil.

Through pink spring breezes
     a peregrine sideways-slips
     as through a closing door.