the birds and the bees

and i am good

 and life is singing

haha birds

and not yet bees 

whatever it is

it is dark 

 the other side

 light

haha birds?

that bird is not a haha birds

that is beautiful bird

and when the bees come winter will be on its way again too and i love making little ditches in the 2% sloped yard, so the water will run and early in the morning i jump on the thin ice in the dried up puddles, 

bees come out when it is 9 degrees Celsius

squirrels

Still i am not in a poetry mood, i will tell a story and chop it a bit and maybe it passes like a poem. My story today is about squirrels, and i am not to nibble on it, the squirrels presence in my forest is omnipresent, always audible and visible. I could easily say, my forest is owned by the squirrels and i am their tenant. Thinking of them as the landlord, they allow everyone to come and live in close proximity and for us to do basically anything we want. And they are very good caretakers, not only do they warn all of us passerby's and tenants when some of us or an outsider are walking by. They also look after the forest.
Instead of poetic squabble lets honor the squirrel today, lets make sure we build our house in such a way that we don't blame the squirrel for cleaning up after us. And honor it by having them have their own space, storage rooms and middens, spruce trees. Whatever you have to do to live harmoniously with your landlord, please do so. Thanks, Jozien

the big melt down

no relevance between the sights 

and sounds

 hard packed snow turns slush

the last day of the hunting season

we look for bison

finding mining claims

even solidly frozen

ice will 

crack you up

the laughter of the water running

every spring we dig trenches

to create a water flow

not that it'll melt faster

we would have as much fun 

building dams

to create a temporary

swimming pool

April poetry month

this time starting in earnest
high up in the sky ravens circle
they are obviously having a spring gathering
all the way out here
i am honored

my one raven
franticly flying to reach them
joins

knee deep snow

bridges are burned

but i want to go back

for hours i walk through knee deep snow

spruce trees, snow and willows

some poplars, the odd pine

in many different arrangements

to ski would be to float through it

but the turns i have to take are too thight

to snowshoe, to stay on top of it

i would get snagged too often

the sun shining profusely

i better keep going

i love to be lost

taking short cuts

or the round about way

wishing you all soft snowy days 

and diamond dust

Noise

what's the noise?

is it a foreign movie without subtitles?

the fridge kicking in again?

am i making this noise?

or is it the helicopter approaching

to take me off this

remote island in the South Pacific?

they announce that the being build new hospital wing is sinking,

people paying rent for places that don't exist,

a gravel pit right in the middle of the city, why not?

years now

centimeters or cityblocks

 millions of dollars

this silence here

i too have been trying to be quiet

no wonder it hurts and is stuck

it is too loud 

and too big

April Poetry Month

uncertainty

a helicopter approaches

i scan the sky

in the silence sounds reach me from far away

finally 

i spot it

high up

as it passes by

disappearing in blue sky

i entered the silence

a silence that hurts

in the pit of my stomach

i entered a silence

that is stuck in the throat

making me gag

what can i say

for certain?

the swans speak once

in all that time

 softly

just 3 snow buntings

chatter lightly as they fly by