Author: cfblack
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In the garden
Poem written to the prompt, Kindness, for a workshop I host. ========================================== In the stillness of the soul kindness whispers softly, no act too small, no word too meek, sacred echo of the heart, song of the Divine, balm for sorrows, guide for the weary, hearts that are torn; binds the broken wing, strengthens the…
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after the snowcalypse haiku
Outside my window Sun melts last patches of snow I’m okay with that 1-25-25
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anti-malarial tanka
heavy air morning single drop breaks pond surface no wind, almost rain brown duck spreads wings flies away I wish the skeeters would, too 6-30-23
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The end is the beginning, is the middle, is the end
My father was always concerned with the now, with what I’m doing with today with not wasting time in pursuit of frivolous things. When my first book of poetry came out, he told me on the phone that he read my book and he didn’t think much of it. At the end he spoke of…
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Winter’s day
Between shadows, light reflects on dead leaves, sun warms my back. A January wind cools my face, pushes its way past my scarf and down the front of my shirt. I zip my jacket as high as it will go, but it it is too late. I retreat to house, fill a bowl with tuna…
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Walking shadow
bird lifts from perch detaches from its shadow and soars no matter how far I walk or fast I run my shadow clings to my feet and holds me here 1-12-25
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haiku of the pond
geese and mallards feud unperturbed white egret stalks breakfast along shore 1-12-25
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Gate 19
Poem from notes at the Milwaukee Airport 12/29/2024 (photo by granddaughter) the interstate is empty at 3 am no snow or ice return rental car walk across sky bridge to Departures dogs sniff feet for explosives no need to remove shoes sweat pants and canvas shoes are all the rage jilted shoeshine chairs sit draped…
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Ice houses
Who cut the last ice block from the river before compressors and Freon made him obsolete? Did he find a new career or blame it on someone else, sulk among relics and try to turn back time? What of the saws, the wagons, the horses and ice houses half buried in the sod? Move to…
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haiku while reading Smithsonian
Andean glass frogs thrive free from prying eyes – don’t ask me how they mate 1-9-25
