Small stones: January 20, 2012

Red, crisp, fresh from the root cellar.

Picked just outside and stored for winter,

Simply to be a perfect treat.

Cut just so and arranged on her favorite plate.

Ah, grandmothers. How they care for us.

Reality: organic from the locavore food store,

chilled in a California brushed-stainless steel Amana.

But, at this moment, she is here.

Small stones: January 19, 2012

The earth and the trees are sighing.

Gentle, gentle rain,

the first in many weeks.

Hope for verdant Spring,

at last.

Small stone: January 18, 2012

Wikipedia,

says this lichen is brilliant yellow,

not dull green,

so that it can survive in bright light.

What a nourishing thought

on this gray day.

Small stone: January 17, 2012

Winter, late afternoon.

His slow steps,

almost a shuffle,

walking stick tapping.

Park benches empty.

Remembering summer?

Small stone: January 16, 2012

At the end of a wintry day,

a common miracle:

late afternoon light

embracing one windblown leaf.

Tomorrow may bring rain.

Small stone: January 15, 2012

Some fire trucks in our city

are alarming red

and some are trusting burgundy.

I am surprised at color’s

often barely-noticed impact,

as I hurry through the day.

 

Small stone: January 14, 2012

One tattered leaf,

the old remains.

Silvered branches

near bursting with new buds.

Restrain anticipation, friend,

it is mid-winter.