on forest monks

bike path is choked
push on
climbing over windrow trees

looking for signs, clues
some remnant of the old forest monks
     friends

a few planks from a broken bridge
   tea pot full of muddy rain water weeds
a roofless shack, and a fallen chair

they've moved on
good as lost
beyond this forest deep

summer poem in winter

minivan roads erode
cut through the trees
swampy and stunted
  as they were
 now
town home rows
float on marshy soil
red wing blackbirds
circle
move on

snow plow prayers

blade crunches curb
snow plow rumbles past
shakes a tired monk awake
       rises from sleeping mat
prays

snow on the path

a gust
hood slips free
tousled toque slides
    stops
on the newly shaven brink

monk pushes
a few more scoops
  clears the path
straightens his precarious hat