First Snow of Winter - Haiku

first snow of winter

paints landscape in hues of white,

night illuminates 

Tiny feet

I felt their tremors this morning,

thumping of tiny feet along the wires.

They were destroying their home of years,

and tiny feet became homeless.

With ears on alert they heard

the maple groan and moan, shuddering,

as the chainsaw began it's onslaught

murdering this living being of fifty years.

A perfectly healthy tree was slayed today

because the keepers complained of her bounty

and were too lazy to rake her leaves,

a small concession of shelter from the sun and heat

and abodes to creatures but do they think of that?

I stood in shocked silence as the human monkeys

swung from limb to limb, slicing each off oblivious

to her anguish while tiny feet stomped in horror.

I have many mature trees and spent days raking

this autumn but I consider it a small payback

for the happiness they bestow on me.

The shade to cool the house and provide shelter

for this redhead, and homes for creatures and songbirds,

privacy along the street, not to mention the muffling

of the occasional ya hoo, which that house has plenty of,

perhaps that's the reason, so their hound dog sorry

excuse of music could be heard even louder.

Still, the grinder lasted beyond sunset and now

the evening landscape is vacant of one less tree

one less living being, that will never be regained

while tiny feet scurry to find another home...

I was not a happy camper when I found the source of the noise this morning.  Chainsaws affect me, even though I understand the reason for winter wood and such I can't help but relate death to them.  Perhaps it's me soul...

  

Sleep well - Haiga

Every day I search The Pond for signs of life knowing it has near ended.  Life fades into the darkness of the bottom as frogs seek their winter home.  This guy was the last hold out.  I trust he has now burrowed into the bottom sand, closed his eyes and is dreaming of the feast that will await him in spring.  

Jacks visit

You swept in slashing your brush with a vengeance

laying waste to lush, vibrant growth, in one swoop.

Acacia leaves lay crinkled and twisted, a rarity this time of year,

usually holding on til December when they would shimmer

as natures crystals competing with celestial star light,

but now Jack, they lay broken, shattered by your ruthlessness.

Hostas are twisted and drained of life as they collapsed

under your hard brush Jack. They hug the ground in shock

not having the time to wave in a late autumn breeze

in their goldness, shining amongst yews of green, they now mourn.

The ole sugar maple was assualted by you Jack, taken aback

by the onslaught of your harshness she dropped her leaves

in one day. I have never witnessed such viciousness in robbing

her of ancient golden splendour especially one so revered.

The walnut is now barren without fruit nor leaves. She had little time

to prepare against you Jack. New growth fell to the ground while

its fruit plummeted, smashing into a black stain, its skin

withered and black from your brush. Do your pots only contain death?

Ferns that once stood tall now are a crumpled mess Jack.

They huddle amongst each other, fronds amongst fronds.

Though they have the last laugh. The fern so named Autumn

grows green and is full of life. You were not as strong as you thought.

There is strength in nature Jack and while you were devastating

in your first strike, there are those that live on and will survive.

Get it while ya can

  Mr. Leo Pard Frog wasn't happy with his seat number

and especially with the audience of Mr. S Nail