Category: nature
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january haiku
feathered friends shiver store bought seed suspended from tree bird feeder café 1-18-26
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Sacrifice
All season long Winter prepares for Spring, pushes stubborn leaves from their perch so new ones have a place to grow. Some fall on grass, some on moss, some on naked ground, and some fall into the fire. They sizzle for a moment before they’re gone. The others will be pushed to the curb for…
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For lack of sunlight
the tree in our yard no longer green rains gold from the sky seesawing back and forth on its way to ground beautiful in the moment it’s not dead only changed awaits transition leaves turn palms up supplicate the wind to carry it away 11-20-25
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heirloom flowers
He wrote that summers he hayed the fields with his grandfather, walked the woods, looked for blackberries to pick, careful not to step in old root cellars, watched for hollyhocks that foreshadowed ruins of a farmhouse where a long dead farmer’s wife planted flowers by the door, while her long dead husband worked the fields…
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Eclipse
modest moon robes the sun birds sing welcome to a second dawn I ask the voyeur, embered, eerie eye roll away the sacred stone let our star dance naked once again across the midday sky 11-12-25
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technicolor haiku
chill Autumn rains fall but still eternal Spring blooms unafraid of death 10-12-25
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Opposites attract
Cold air cradles tropical moisture in its arms, drums rain on our roof, lolls us to sleep, while pine cones lose their grip, and fall to ground. I invite you to walk with me between puddles, we will pray for acceptance of cold wet days that glow moss green, again. 10-12-25
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haiku for an overcast day
basking in half-light no frog or heron in sight lone lily blooms white 9-27-25
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Rain
Morning rain rattles in gutters and drains, washes the street, pushes tired leaves from limbs, resuscitates thirsty moss. Somewhere offshore a hurricane spins, spawns riptides, pulls sand from beaches, keeps disappointed tourists inside. The forecast says the storm will miss us. But other storms more dangerous than this gather out where we can’t see. While…
My husband's poetry 