Une feuille rousse

                                 tombe

                                silence

                                  ***

                         Deux chevaux paissent

                           la brume d'automne

                               sur le dos

                                  ***

                            Pluie d'automne

                             la rue attend

                               un passant

                                  ***

                      Par - dessus le petit chemin

                          les feuilles rousses

                           se donnent la main

                                  ***

                             Lune d'octobre

                            dépenaillée par

                               les nuages

                                  ***

                              Dans le bois

                      le ramasseur de champignons

                                grisonne

                                  ***

                            Le vieux bouleau

                       tout droit, sans paroles,

                            pluie d'automne

                                  ***

                           Notre beau bouleau

                        majestueux, énigmatique,

                    curieux de nos amours en chambre

    Nuit d'été,

                 la lune en serpette

               semble un haïku

                                  ***

                           Octobre qui attend

                           la première souris

                     de novembre

                                  ***

                          Un vol d'étourneaux

                         une poignée de grains

                            jetée aux nuages

                                  ***

                           La plaine au loin

                             relève sa jupe

                           et touche le ciel

                                  ***

                                L'enfant

                         s'efforce de cueillir

                          une goutte de rosée

                                  ***

                             L'herbe humide

                                de rosée

                           matin de printemps

                                  ***

                                 Avril

                            froid de canard,

                     qu'en pensent les violettes ?

                                  ***

                         Le voleur a tout pris

                              sauf la lune

                              à la fenêtre

                                  ***

Automne 2007