¦¦¦¦¦ woods ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ fill up with snow.
¦¦¦ little horse ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ stop ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
Between ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ easy wind and downy flake.
¦¦¦ woods ¦¦¦ lovely, dark ¦¦¦ deep,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ miles to go before I sleep,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
(Blackout of )
The moon curls up into the
night,
And fluffs a cloud of downy
white.
He tucks the stars into their
beds,
With silver blankets over their
heads,
Then softly find his golden
light.
Woods
Without a farmhouse near
And frozen lake
The darkest evening.
Of the year
The only sound’s the sweep
And
The woods are lovely,
Dark and deep,
I have promises to keep,
And miles
And miles to go
Before I sleep.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it *****
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Written by: Robert Frost
A Bird Haiku Set of Two 6-16-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dove
a mourning dove coos
matins of morning glories ~
sweet bird song wakes dawn
first light serenades
clothed in downy grey plumage ~
sun rise reveille
I need to unsheath myself
from comfort, the layered distance
separating nerve ends from the cold,
to feel the coarse scrape of the world
and not just the intimacy of its downy touch.
I lounge too much in the quiet of myself
away from the hoarse sound
of the wind straining through
the trees, waves tearing water apart
and the screech of angry gulls.
I am too given to the notion
that the gods speak only in the calm
of perfect mornings, find voice
in places cleared of movement.
The heave and spill of the world,
its rupturing crust, fire, flood
and suffering are surely places
where the gods cannot reside.
My mind wrestles with what
seems like an unsolvable koan -
to exist, good gods
must find in such tortured places,
a home.
Upon a downy pillow top
I slowly close my weary eyes.
A lovely aura enters in
and whispers gentle lullabies.
Inspired romance invading sleep;
my spirit leaves it’s dream behind
and journeys through emotion's realm;
a lovers' pact to be defined.
Enclosed inside seduction's room,
exquisite candles light the night.
A golden bed awaits our heat;
entrancing music leads our flight.
Her velvet kisses spark a fire,
augmented far beyond restraint.
Our hands caress, a touch that's missed;
it sates our thirst like fine champagne.
Desires are painted, thrills are etched;
exposure rules this teasing game.
As streams of pleasure warmly flow,
we're lost in rapture's bluest flame.
Composure flees as lust explodes
and ecstasy's attainment is planned.
We've set our minds to break the mold;
dramatic thrusts have sole command.
Propelling deeper midst the dark,
constrictions grip with longing force,
releasing waters from the dam,
completing satisfaction's course.
With admiration in excess,
this partnership becomes benign
and adoration takes the stage,
our knitted essence deemed divine.
A whistling kettle of alluring mauve,
A steaming cup of tea that conveys love.
Sunlight dancing upon a polished floor,
While gentle breezes whisper at the door.
Wrapped within a blanket, downy and worn,
Reading into the silence of the morn.
These little echoes of a quiet grace,
Turn the cottage into a resting place.
See the downy cloud
In my steaming cup of tea
Non-duality.
“Inside, cozy, with the warmth of a crackling fireplace, wrapped in a wool blanket, looking out to a magic snow globe world.” Quote by poet
Winter in an elegant waltz rhythm
And a drawn breath of early chill hum,
Latent boughs by heaven's snowfall,
White downy bedding laid across numb.
Woods once rich with succulent leaves shawl,
Sweetly smudged, quiver, kissed away sprawl
By autumn's thief to come again
In early spring, again prevail all.
Sun's ray stretch across snowfall with a kiss
Of warmth hovers, veils above, not amiss.
Lost in a crunchy white dream, shadows turn
To gather into kaleidoscope bliss.
The soul of nature's shared sound poetic
Artistry sighs, a craving kinetic
Force for harmony, for a slumbering
Village in midnight and silent epic.
I love my tabby kitty's tummy dots.
all those swirly, soft, downy lovely spots;
she likes to jump, spin and leap,
sometime, behind me will creep . . .
I wake each morn with kitty in my thoughts !
when out birding, woodpeckers are one of my favorite finds
in Kentucky, where i live there are seven different kinds
the smallest is the Downy and they seem to like my suet feeders best
I always see them in a pair so I hope nearby is their nest
next we have the Hairy and its just bigger by a bit
in the evenings they seem most active so I like to go outside and sit
a Red Bellied woodpecker visits one of my trees each day
I am pretty sure when I hear its call it asking me to play
Northern Flickers have speckles and a black patch on its chest
Its feathers are mostly brown, and not black and white like the rest
Yellow Bellied Sapsucker is my favorite one to say
I spotted my very first one in a field of flowers on a hot summer day
the Pileated is the largest and loudest and a majestic one to see
they like to make their nests in the cavity of a large dead tree
the last is the wood-cockaded that I have yet to spot
its rare and likes pine forests but I will give it my best shot
Sleeping in blossoms, plush pillows!
Fleeting dreams, of pink, cloud billows.
Red, orange, purple and golden,
spread over green park, so olden.
Soft, the sighs, as hummingbird flies,
Oft' plagued by purple martin cries.
Falling through petals ~ deep, downy.
Crawling time, scented and drowsy.
Steel insulation warm thin hot smooth downy shepherd smoothness. Pistol clasps palms crystal misses birching basket weavers.
Fluffy firm pedestals release hard deniers.
Doldrum office charts demonstrating
Appendages conceal resistance.
Halcyon boogie board heroes.
Greek play rehearsal.
Steel insulation warm thin hot smooth downy shepherd smoothness. Pistol clasps palms crystal misses birching basket weavers.
Fluffy firm pedestals release hard deniers.
Doldrum office charts demonstrating
Appendages conceal resistance.
Halcyon boogie board heroes.
Greek play rehearsal.
A crystal-pin prick at the beginning.
A monumental vagueness at the end.
The art of carving peace seems quite lost again.
In between granite slabs-a tangle of black tragedies.
Tiny clusters of downy light upon a peaceful being.
The selfishness of flesh drifting atop the brine.
In an endless maze of the triggered mind.
Where blue devils tap dance so raggedly upon God time.
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