October 31, 2013

on my front stoop
sizing each other up
two little Batmen

October 30, 2013

tucked under covers,
feeling a kind of kinship
with the potatoes

October 29, 2013

the oldest cricket
tells of a long ago storm
no one believes her

October 28, 2013

the sweep of its wings
wider even than our gasps
bald eagle

October 27, 2013

unsure of ourselves
we check our locks, our pockets
while the earth waits

October 26, 2013

early leaf raking
I try not to look up at
the ones yet to fall

October 25, 2013

slowing down
to savor the almost-end
of my paperback

October 24, 2013

over and over
my only thought the next hold
as I reach for it

(Dedicated to Veterans Expeditions (@vetexpeditions)

October 23, 2013

the baby book we hid
to avoid reading it
for the thousandth time

October 22, 2013

shorter days
she calls to ask again
when we might visit

October 21, 2013

marrow of black trunks
amidst swirling red leaves 
after chemo

October 20, 2013

that moment
when your leaning in is met
by another’s

October 19, 2013

the sound of rain
before I recognize it
different every time

State of Out Youth: A Town Hall

Could I be prouder of my counselee, Paulina Aldaba? Nope. Don't think so.

October 18, 2013

the tide and the moon
pulling each other on
with fierce devotion

drawn into itself
as it climbs the night sky
harvest moon

each year, larger than
we can hold in memory
harvest moon  

October 17, 2013

“She hid in her clothes,”
her mother says of those years,
and the room goes still

(For our school's celebration of National Coming Out Day, we had a great presentation by one of our teachers and her openly lesbian daughter, who is now in her mid-twenties. This haiku came from the mom's description of the daughter's high school years, when she was still struggling with coming to terms with her sexuality.)

October 16, 2013

apples by the bag
the grocery aisles fill up
with dreams of pie

October 15, 2013

dazzled to tears
and grateful for it
the setting sun’s light

October 14, 2013

along the low bridge
teaching each other to fish
parents and children

October 13, 2013

cutting back the vines
that grew where they shouldn’t have
autumn begins

October 12, 2013

early fall
inhaling gnats every day
until that first frost

October 11, 2013

the time and space
between his apology
and my forgiveness

October 10, 2013

watching younger kin
the old deer hesitates, then
takes the fence in stride

October 09, 2013

October mornings
heading back inside to get
another layer

October 08, 2013

each night that I sit
at the edge of his bed I’m
grateful to be there

October 07, 2013

second bedroom
getting used to the same sun
through a new window

October 06, 2013

home after a trip
the red maple greets me,
seeming taller

October 05, 2013

lingering warmth —
each fall, memories of my
first mother-in-law

October 04, 2013

another warm day —
the squirrels ask each other
"Was last year like this?"

October 03, 2013

What are the crickets
looking forward to so much
that they can’t sleep?

October 02, 2013

a boy and his dad
making good time and grinning
no training wheels in sight

October 01, 2013

every day this week
like putting on jewelry
slow-rising lake mist