Category: nature
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haiku while sweeping pollen from the porch
on a screened porch silllooking out, a dead wasp lieslonging for freedom 4-10-21
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meditation on 15th day after vaccination
The summer the world pulled in upon itself and me Unaware you watched through leaves as I sat Alone in a chair trying to make sense of whys and hows and whens Winter came I stared out at clouds as if on childhood days Gathered in a nose, lips, chin, a brow in bare branches…
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rise and kiss the bottom of the sky
owl moves from tree to tree calling to the dark pregnant possum looks both ways before it waddles into the street mockingbirds sing hallelujah chorus at 4 am woodpecker swoops low at day break cat abandons breakfast reservation blue jays dance among azaleas fish rise and kiss the bottom of the sky 4-8-21
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the zen of couch surfing
two windows light and shadow I’ll sit a bit longer wait until shadows disappear open the door that leads to morning 4-3-21
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the abusing vine
Before it strangles all life From the tree Cut the choking vine At the base of the trunk For a while It will remain Overhead as a reminder But in time it will fall away Dry and dead Gather it up From cold ground Pile it at the curb Let the city haul it away…
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dead limb
at some point a dead limb that hung caught In branches above the road fell it must’ve been while we were gone and the city hauled it away 4-1-21
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Lessons learned at the foot of a tree
lie down at the feet of a tree look up there are many possible ways to ascend 4-1-21
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Certitude
the Sun does not ride a chariot across the sky neither does it go down or up you and I spin towards night spin back and call it morning it never left we turned away do not blame the Sun for our recitations of illusion our dizzy spinning away and back back and away, again…
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wet paint
Before rain comes to fill my ears with neighborhood gossip, I gathered yard debris, admired the blooming azaleas, the last blood red camellia, I plan to sit outside on the porch, attempt, once more, to hack recursive algorithms, fractal Pollack patterns petals drip in homage on moss or maybe, I’ll take a nap. 3-31-21
My husband's poetry 