wake! she’s got to go!
old dog frolics in the snow
a shimmering moon!
needles pierce the dark
wings of silvery snowflakes
thread of window light
morning winter breeze
the front door melts -shivering
an Owl’s morning call
Winter sky – 24 hours, #141
winter
Mid March, #81
1.
Afternoon spring winds
waft through an open window,
sweep northern shadows
2.
3.
First steps of the day
out the window crocus blooms
the old oak floor creaks
In the Arboretum, #80
Light misty breath
lit by a waning winter sun
each catkin flower
Early March, #79
1.
Moist green garlic shoots
thread through faded brittle weaves
of an old straw mat
2.
Under filtered sun –
Palouse snowmelt fills the gaps
of wind whipped shadows
3.
About to write a thought
a fly lands on the paper
– then flies away!
Winter breeze, #78
A distant birdsong
lies in the highway’s faint hum
in a snowy field
Late February, #77
1.
Icicles caress
the leafless flower garden–
droplets drip, dripping
2.
A walker spies thier phone-
while a dog paints graffiti
on a snowbank
3.
Cycling red and green
cars emit thunderous waves-
a crow flaps its wings
Winter day, #76
From wintering trees-
the notification pings-
a lonely bird song
Winter Garden, #75
Tomato poles stand
in the snow covered garden-
patiently waiting
Mid February, #74
1
Palouse snowfall
somewhere Paradise Ridge
cannot see me
2
The burning candle
on this cold winter day
shivers
3
The Orchid bloom
illumines
this winter morning
Downtown, #73
I stop and take a photo of a couple sitting outside the coffee shop downtown. It had just been snowing and I think to myself, “A snow-shower would have been a nice addition.” (It had been snowing during most of my walk).
I walk by their table and notice two Canon cameras and strike up a conversation.
The couple say they are out taking pictures for the day. We talk about the Palouse and I find out they are only here for a month, finishing some work at Washington State University, and have a desire to be back in the big city.
They notice my FUJIFILM X100S with its bent sunshade and scratches. I instantly think of the many miles I’ve walked with it hanging from my shoulder and I wonder what bends and scratches their cameras will one day show?
As I get ready to leave there is an uncomfortable pause. I think because of the inability to shake hands, because of COVID. After it passes we share a slight head bow, smiles, and a friendly wave goodbye.
Turning in the night
my head finds the pillow–
between dreams