Sadie Hawkins' Day,  a leap year  snow fall.


leafless trees
sift the falling snow
lonely crow

The foot hills backbone; a hawk.


red tail
over this foothill chine
a rainbow

__The good and the bad; by looking at a grand old tree, have you ever wondered what life that tree has seen? The history?


trees eyes
hidden in its rings
war years

*****

tree rings
this unread book
new sprouts

__Nearby, five modern windmills have become electriclly productive. Not finding them visually polluting, I see a certain grace in their movement... thus, I must be odd.  


windmills
as this day sun fades
a sweater

__Friends, you may be interested in a contest, this, as listed at: varientaenglezeasca.blogspot.com


looking out
this search for the green
a bird calls

From one of my 'scribble books'... to be seen again.


new buds
on this tiny branch
a pencil line

To the contrary, thus,  a positive.


trails start
new paths begin to cross
the flowers bud

The doves... shine through it all. From last summer's scribble book.


the politics
of this flock of grackles
doves whisper

The cattle know the time of day... they gather at the barn door; day's end gate.


icy fence line
they wander to the barn
day's gate

Once seen at WHW; a memory of the summer past and a thought of that to arrive.


holly tree
in this snowy wind
a bird nest

__Recently, Devica posted this quote by  Robert Lewis Stevenson, "Wine is bottled poetry."
__Then is it fair, in a contrary view to say?   "Poetry is a glass of wine."


chianti
I pour another glass
the third line