Dusk

It was such a beautiful evening, after a very chilly day. I stood on the rise in my back yard looking across into the woods and thought how inspiring the woods becomes at dusk. As the light played on the trees, changes occured right before my eyes. The following poem shares some of my thoughts and feelings.

Dusk… blushes every tall tree with the sun’s glow

Cold December air gently caresses my face

as I stand staring into the darkening woods

Nothing stirs

Birds twitter… huddling together in the cedars

Rabbits burrow down under the blackberry bushes

on a cozy bed of brown leaves

the sky dims

Golden shades turn to gray… then black

Dusk in the woods can be a spiritual experience

As all of God’s creation rests in quiet slumber

************

I took this photo with my iPhone this evening, after taking a walk on the gas line right-of-way behind our house.

First Snowfall

Out in the field

behind the chicken house

rows of asparagus

line the edge of the woods

kinked twisted…

bent over like a hundred old men.

Seed pods cling stubbornly to the tops.

In the woods,

bare foot paths

Disappear under a snowy blanket.

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Merril asked us to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words, using the word blanket in any form we choose. It is still Fall here, but I immediately thought of snow in the winter where I grew up. It was such a beautiful sight to see that first snowfall blanketing everything outside.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com … then click the Mr. Linkey box to read other poets’ posts.

Morning Bursts Forth

Morning bursts forth in all its radiant glory

Peering into the dark sheltered woods

Highlighting the trees dancing on flowers

The stepping stones draw me to the trees

To the mysterious woods sheltering the creek

Turning to mush in summer’s heat

Frogs buried in the mud keep cool

Sending out their sharp croaks

calling for someone to hear

Morning breezes soon shift

 to a sauna of heat and humidity

But for now the glorious morning rests

 on the yellow buttercups

Red salvia bathed in the sunlight

reach toward the heavens

Calling me to come join them

In the exhilaration of the beckoning day

Photo: Dwight L. Roth taken this morning

I wrote this four years ago, but I felt like it was time to post it again as I looked out across the bottom filled with blooming wildflowers covering the creek!

Woodland Symphony

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Music pours out from shadow and tree
Calling us all to enjoy a reprieve
A melodious symphony straight from the heart
Each tiny instrument playing its part
Miniature voices in perfect pitch
Unwritten scores of notes that are rich
Filled with a beauty beyond man or pen
A symphony of music that will never end

*

Mocking birds solo sopranos and basses
Finding their notes in so many spaces
Piccolo warblers and wren solos start
Antiphonal melodies straight from the heart
*
The bassoon bull frog comes in now and then
Cicadas’ strings play background blends
Crickets and blue jays fill the air
The snare of the trees adds depth to the pair
Woodpeckers drumming on old hollow trees
A staccato rhythm that floats on the breeze
*
Suddenly right out of the blue
The feline conductor brings all in on cue
With a growing crescendo from blue jay and friend
Celloed instruments calling, “This is the end!”
The squirrel plays percussion with his raspy scolding
As the woods fills with music the finale’s unfolding
*
A thunderous applause from the balcony on high
Brings all to their feet flashes crossing the sky
The concert is over the conductor’s gone home
Performers take bows the music is gone

*

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

This is a painting and poem are from a few years ago.  I wrote this as I sat under the trees listening to all that was going on above me. I love the idea of the birds and animals creating an orchestral piece brought on by the neighbors cat!

Morning Bursts Forth

IMG_3213 (3)
Morning bursts forth in all its radiant glory.
I peer into the dark sheltered woods
highlighting the trees dancing on flowers.
Stepping stones draw me to the trees;
To the mysterious woods // sheltering the creek
turning to mush in summer’s heat.
Frogs buried in the mud keep cool
sending out their sharp croaks // calling for someone to hear.
Morning breezes soon shift to a sauna of heat and humidity;
But for now// the glorious morning rests on the yellow buttercups.
Orange day lilies bathed in the sunlight reach toward the heavens;
Calling me to come join them…
In the exhilaration of the beckoning day

***

Today’s Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Morning Calls Me

IMG_5894

Morning Bursts Forth

Morning bursts forth in all its radiant glory

Peering into the dark sheltered woods

Highlighting the trees dancing on flowers

The stepping stones draw me to the trees

To the mysterious woods sheltering the creek

Turning to mush in summer’s heat

Frogs buried in the mud keep cool

Sending out their sharp croaks

Calling for someone to hear

Morning breezes soon shift

To a sauna of heat and humidity

But for now the glorious morning rests

On the yellow buttercups

Red salvia bathes in the sunlight

Reaching toward the heavens

Calling me to come join them

In the exhilaration of the beckoning day

morning-beconning-me-to-come

Painting and Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Fall in the Woods at Masontown

dwight-with-bird-house-from-lauralville-001

Fall in the Woods at Masontown

I can still remember, like it was yesterday

Fall in the woods at Masontown

Cold weather closed in early

Leaves in the woods

Turned shades of yellow, orange, red, and brown

What was once a lush green woods

Filled with green hollow stemmed weeds

Now becomes blanketed

With a soft silent coating of leaves

 

The Silver Maple and Butternut next to the house

Dropped their yellow-tan leaves

The quince turned yellow-brown

As the apple trees blended into the scene

With rich deep red leaves

Highlighted by a back drop of color

Pouring from the shallow woods

Extending from our house

To the church cemetery

 

On the driveway black walnuts still in the hulls

Driven over with car tires

Squishing and shelling

Removing the hard nuts inside

Picking them up, peeling off the excess

While blends of saffron, amber, and walnut stains

Are left on my hands and under my nails

From driveway to furnace room

Down in the basement

The nuts carried to be dried

For cracking with hammer and brick

 

Out in the field behind the chicken house

Rows of asparagus

Lined the edge of the woods

Bent over like a hundred old men

Kinked and twisted

Dry hollow stems

Seed pods still clinging stubbornly to the tops

Some will weather the snow and wind

Only to be disked up in the spring

To start all over again

 

Out in the woods,

Paths where our bare feet ran all summer long

Disappeared under layers of leaves

As frost took its toll on the trees

Now I can walk through the woods,

With a borrowed single-shot 12 gauge,

Looking in the pit holes for rabbits,

Flushing out ring-necked pheasants

From the edge of the corn field

Just beyond the back side of the woods

 

Life was simple then,

Rabbits shot were few and pheasants even fewer

But walking through the woods and field

Was an experience I enjoyed

Just for the sake of being there

The woods remained stark and bare

For the rest of the winter,

But it’s passing and recurring beauty

Left indelible impressions

On my mind for years to come

Sometimes I wish I could just be there once again.