Some sounds, almost silent, arrest our attention unknown footsteps on crackling leaves, whispers.
Wasps' nests empty sockets nestled under dormers stare at us with silent menace: Argus!
Cool days and cooler nights herald summers passing; perhaps thats why the cold brings thoughts of death.
Leaf fall litters driveways and lawns, kaleidoscopes of color, celebrating what? A wake!
Sharp air slices crisply through late summer blossoms, slashing blooms like invisible ice picks.
Snowfall and now the grime of city streets is hid by blankets crisp and white, pristine, sublime!
At night the snowy fields reach overhead, capture glowing moonlight and bring it down to earth.
Snow man, too soon the sun will melt you, leaving naught but puddles; are we sure our deaths leave more?
Snow globe flakes in turmoil swirl and settle like new conceptions shake and rearrange our minds.
Christmas! Cheerful faces hide the dreadful secret of expectations unfulfilled by love.
She said that her life sucked; she wished that she could die, and, when her wish came true, forgot to smile.
The past as remembered and future imagined mysteriously seem better than now.
Seize it! Grab that moment or its gone forever. Enjoy it now while you still can too late!
Magic and wizardry, dead or not, transfigures books to spell-binding charms that change our lives.
Eagles soar through our skies and imaginations like heroes, but nobody asked the lambs.
High clouds, thin as whispers wind-blown wisps spread tendrils fanning out like deltas sky-borne rivers.
Sun dogs flank icy sun; peering through frozen clouds, they try in vain to triplicate our star.
So cold, wrapped in papers, curled up like a fetus, sheltered in a cardboard carton homeless.
Iceberg phenomenon of nature concealing with awesome beauty titanic danger.
Small gifts bring greatest joys: observing at Christmas the smiles on young children asleep sweet dreams.
Bright fire bursts forth from logs to dance across our hearth like sprightly spirits now set free tree pyre.
Wood smoke drifts from chimneys with gifts for passersby: reminders of pleasures of hearth and home.
Pumpkins, carved grotesquely, glowing with inner fire, resembling disembodied heads, await.
First snow, lightly dusting leaves but lately fallen, adds the period to autumn's sentence.
Drop it! Put down that book! Turn off that glowing screen! Open the door; go for a walk. Read life!
Weather, like Hindu gods, has many avatars benign and beautiful, dreadful, evil.
Pigeons perched on statues make unwitting glosses on values death and time can bring to fame.
So white! Reflected sun on snow in blinding light that makes us shield our eyes and wish for night.
Halos ring moon and stars, revealing hidden swarms of tiny crystals and prisms of ice.
Snowflakes fall in billions, followed by billions more, repeating for billions of years unique?
Snowflakes drifting gently down like feathery down to blanket earth and warm her seeds till birth.
Nightmares Mirrors? Windows? Dark portraits of our minds or portals to a universe unknown?
Hands up! Reach for the sky! This thief will rob you blind not your money, your memory old age!
Timeless poised on the cusp between past and future and timidly trying to live our lives. Our lives, if boldly lived, can transcend future's past and leave behind our legacy timeless.
Floating lightly through life, touching other lives like butterflies sucking nectar soulless Soulless, wading only in shallow emotions and neither needing nor giving solace. Solace requires a soul to share deep grief and soothe with common tears a common loss console. Console! the very word sounds filled "with soul"; how can one console when one is soulless, floating?
Fences, each style unique, stamp personalities on territories within their borders. Pickets whitewashed fences forbidding upright swords, inviting with their rustic charm, two-edged. Split rails, meandering borders in zigzag paths, as though unsure of what is out what's in. Stone walls, low and sturdy, rocks from farmer's fields, beauty wrought from necessary labor. High stakes made from cedar shield their yards from strangers bristling spears like soldiers formed in phalanx. Chain link topped with spiral razor wire breached with ease by eyes not by body, not by spirit.
Written 1999 by David L Brungart - © Copyright