Post Chickenpoxalypse

The school bus flashes to a stop.

“Well,” he grumps, 

“This should be fun.”

and slouches across the road

under his red backpack.

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!”

Heater Time

First blowy, cloudy fall day
fingers chilled on keyboard.
Push, wiggle, wiggle -- 
plug firmly seated in socket. Check.
Orange glowy Power light. Check. 
Twist -- dial slides round a quarter turn.
Now, wait for it....yes!
Smell of warm dust!
“Tounk” thermostat switches off,
“tic, tic, tic” of momentary cooling,
“tounk” thermostat switches on.
Everything is a cycle.

Alpine Strawberries After Breakfast

Hunkering in the garden 
sorting through dewy foliage 
lifting red half-a-bite gems 
to my dazzled tongue. 
One kitten climbs my back 
sits between my shoulder blades 
purring in my ear, batting my pony tail,
another stalks the berry seeking hand
and pounces wildly on wet fingers.