Category: Issue 08

New Year’s morning– old haiku linked together with cobwebs

bare maple branches grandpa’s fingers curl around his cane

cattle fade into the sky blizzard wind

rough sea — the seagull in a rain puddle

white out… a car horn blares the yellow rose of texas

toll road the hitchhiker’s thumb knee high

standing near my wife watching the snowflakes melt in a stranger’s hair

dim light in the bus… a tiny finger counts the stars

our toes finding each other over the hot-water bottle

Martin Luther King Day… a watermain breaks on his boulevard

cold moon . . . a rising wave splashes the taste of salt

filling the bird feeder– snow finds the hole in my mitten

wedding day the bride tries to avoid the widow’s hug

clapping his hands to turn on the TV … winter melancholy

winter morning walking with the cat around my ankles

star-gazing between snowflakes the big dipper

50th reunion everyone much older than me

another gray morning all the potholes full of rain

winter sunset… this sudden craving for a hand-picked peach

icy pond the weight of a willow’s shadow

nor’easter my cat stalks the tumbling ice

wet snow a crow follows the road

window steam the slow evolution of soup

frozen in silence the depth of the old pond

London Underground five stops after he speaks she answers

the end of winter the gravedigger whistles louder and louder

recent puddle – the white of clouds in the way

floating purple– my daydreams follow the water hyacinth

one more step to the top the falling snowflakes a little louder

a sudden cold snap the ducks stand together on the lake

the old setter snores as I write out the check for a puppy

a dinner bell rings & rings… evening snow

bed time… she asks if her rag doll can stay up late

rising and falling the scent of tortillas from shore

snow blowing sideways crows in flight

bedtime story the child never stops talking

Valentine’s Day– she reminds me to fasten my seatbelt

my heart after the finish still running

late fall choosing between two rotten apples

Toshogu shrine pines I try to stay as still- mist and dew

closed window a yellow gecko clings to the sky

blizzard — the hero on the pedestal thicker and thicker

falling star the child stares at my finger

lake crossing dusk lingers in the ice

below freezing only the stars remain outside

midday moon against the fence yellow grass

nuclear spring the ancient lighthouse points to the shattered moon

all are in a hurry – in the beggar’s hand only the rain

false spring… the candidates bow in unison

day moon the night stays in the lake

desert snowfall- the saguaro’s white shoulders

out of the thinning fog and back again pelicans at Big Sur

low-flying cloud… the retired airman clips his topiary swan

spring breeze — three little girls run into the sky

all this green forgiving the rain

stone wall – the spring wind fills all the cracks

lightning so bright streetlights stutter

tiny words on my monitor a white moth

spring cleaning the last mound of snow trickles down the driveway

snow melt… her lost mitten covering the crocus

spring peepers the other car in the lot has its top down

spring dusk the wind rises in the trees

into the night a cuckoo returns the call

after-season sales — I read fire safety tips in a lingerie shop

spring thaw… collecting the hat I loaned to Frosty

pear trees in bloom from the old archtop music from my youth

spring sunset garden lights flicker one by one

pale moon . . . not half the man I used to be

full moon floating face up in the bird bath

first sun in days bees bees bees in the rosemary

night traffic the smell of seaweed wafts above the pier

amber light wrapped flowers on the verge

prairie sunset the glow of the cattleman’s branding iron

model home — in the forsythia bush a single blossom

the pause in a dragonfly’s glide— noon shadows

rainy day the hummingbird still watches its plastic flower

ripples split the pickerel weed– an empty canoe drifts to shore

salt marsh sunlight flecks the egret

childless couple a birthday cake for the dog

stolen kisses barn swallows twitter in the eaves

chilly wind red rose petals on her stone

real estate sales pitch — a tangle of butterflies in the horse pasture

my son and i counting fireflies counting stars