Another Day

I’m the filling in a cozy blanket sandwich,

ruthless Morning peels back the layers

and eats me plain.

November Morning

Smell of damp earth and coming rain
smell of drifting wood smoke.

Trickle Creek

Upstream a dribbling fall flowing 
beneath a green-mossed log, 
a rocky gurgle chattering beside me,
the shoooshing spill below the trail --
how many voices between 
mountain top and sea?

Cocoon Day

Grey rain veils obscure the valley
damp cold creeps in at house corners
crawls through old single panes.
Behind the iron door of it’s workshop
the blazing fire cries defiance  
“Pffft-snut-tii-tippt-pnuff--SNAP!”