October Oak

October Oak

as daylight hours decrease
trees will lose leaves

these colours come 
around each fall

green leaves grow dim
changing colours 
almost overnight

one day you see
a bright orange tree

and suddenly know
october's back again

summer cumulus
clouds become cirrus

nights become chilly

the time comes for
fall gardening jobs

there are shrubs to trim
many leaves to rake

soon it will be too cold
you know we're going

into winter's deadly cold

most importantly
see and enjoy the colours

Party Colour

Party Colour

   some colours scream,
there is a party going on

somewhere nearby,
      loud and exciting.

      at some parties,
   people act foolishly
if properly encouraged.

shout and scream
      fall down without tears.

   purple and yellow,
   bright orange like

a little bit of green!

      january flowers
are found indoors,

and seem to be so
   out of context
   with the season.

the bright colours
      cheer us though,

   which has value
now that all our

winter celebrations
      are over and
the lights are off.

Share the Road

tiny trucks deliver
to tiny shops,

as if there was
room on roads.

learn quickly.

out of the way!

(no suitable
springs to mind.)

everyone moves
aside, quickly.

tiny trucks
go slowly by.

roads in a 
beautiful place.

tiny trucks leave
no dirty tracks
on the streets.

shops sell a few
amazing things:
exquisite art,

a bowl: carved
of ancient olive,
grown thousands
of years ago.

cool shade is
an under-rated

just stay cool!

Ruins and Palms

ruins and palms
have little value
      in my daily life.

   in my memories 
they are magical.

stories of ruins,
      of the things
   that happened 
there and there,

well I know that 
      i ought to say:

      very special 
   about the stories 
i don't want to hear.

like the palms,
   they are not
related to my
  own stories,

or my life.

   they have a very
different mesage,
      maybe, while i
might have none.

my own stories or my life

nothing important,
because i must be
about as important
   as an ant in a hill.

   would i like to be
more important?

      what kind of 
comes with that?

maybe to be an ant 
      is enough.

   and what about
   the palm and its

   and the wall?

Spring Seawall

drifting along
a beautiful
seawall on
an island,

they have
no agenda,
nor purpose.

on a day 
like this.

quarried stone
holds back waves,

waves breaking
on hard stone.

make no mistake;
any rock weathers
on these edges.

some last longer
than others. 
these stones last 
longer than we do.

for us the people 
are always the story.

and here, the story 
is that the people
do not seem so 
very important.

not much going on,
no real dramas
are unfolding.

the drama here
is all unseen,
and unseeable,
or maybe 
the drama is
the landscape.

Grand Canal

that morning the 
north end of 
the adriatic sea,

looked like a
scene from a 
monster movie, 
after the crowd 
ran away.

venice started 
out that way, 
a barbarian army 
at the edge 
of a swamp. 

nothing much 
has changed

an awful mist 
hung over
the grand canal,

as we looked 
toward a modern 
art museum.

maybe it excited
her to support men
who might some 
day be known 
as greats.

you never know.

a carpenter 
might become 
a fisherman;

a slave might 
become a 
famous sculptor,
a plowman, a poet.

and we had faith
that sunshine
would come back.

Coldstream Creekside

somewhere near,
a road-building
project destroyed

a historic wonder,
i made a photograph:
a very old log house.

sunburned from
probably a century
of summer sun.

logs turned rich
brown and black,

cracks filled with 
old white plaster.
whitewash, maybe.

i don't know the 
stories i can't see.

i can always
believe nonsense;
it's a very human 
thing to do.

the creek flowed
silently past the
old log house.

maybe it was
drinking water,
though today it
looks murky,
a bit dangerous.

old stories are
impossible to
prove, a bit murky,

digging for
truth a little quirky

we turn over stones,
looking to see clues
to untold stories,
stories we can't see.

Ancient Doorways

through those
ancient doorways

ancestral feet 
wandered in 
through those 
doors, and out.

masons built
such solid walls,

brick and mortar
last so long.

nothing is
forever, it is said.

two thousand years
those bricks 
held strong;

there's little
left of the old town;
the doorways now
are falling down.

through those
ancient doorways

ancestral feet 
wandered in 
through those 
doors, and out.

Black Widow Spider

   she's such a 

  waiting quietly
  for something
foolish enough

      to wander
close enough.

      she will
pounce and
sink fangs in
deep enough

to inject her

two workmen
   watched me
her image,

to make this 

from what they
   considered a
safe distance.

her bite might 
   not be fatal
for someone
      my size.

it might make
   me very sorry.

   and sorrier,
      her mate,
who i am not,
may be killed
      and eaten.

   i am not him,
   and keep my
safe distance.

      she is so
beautiful in
   her hunger,

      almost a

      with such

   she is amazing, 
a thing of wonder.

Hydrangea Bouquet

springtime, in the
floral department,
looks like this.

many times, in a
long cold winter,
we craved warmth,

wanting what we
did not have.

maybe it's always
springtime, in the
floral department,

i wouldn't know.

there are things
that i don't need
to see or 
hear or say..

but i fear that i am 
no wise monkey,

and see so much
that makes me sad. 

springtime, in the
floral department,
looks like this.