Scene From My Desk

The naked forest,
Rests under the harsh gray sun,
Stripped bare of its green.

Winter Scene From a Window

A line of roosters,
Peck round a fallen walnut,
January's feast.

Mountain Gardens

We grow with passion,
Our only cash crop is rocks,
Want peas? Import soil!

The End of Hunting Season

Bear Hunting is Done,
Silence reigns in the mountains,
Case that three-oh-eight.

Winter In a Mountain Resort

A town deserted,
Syria in midwinter,
A stark empty street.

On The First Snow

Snow meanders down,
Winter smiles in its late bloom,
Our first white blanket.