May 31, 2013

May 29, 2013


catching strangers’ eyes
shaking our heads together —
crazy heatwave


May 28, 2013


taking a deep breath
amongst linden blossoms
back home just in time

(In honor of beloved friend Karen Schiff's return home.)

May 27, 2013


two bats
giving the moths a reprieve
chase each other

(Hattip to Gayla Trail, whose tweet inspired this haiku.)


May 26, 2013

May 25, 2013


peonies bent low —
again this year, rain got to them
before we could


May 24, 2013

May 23, 2013


no longer splintered
sunlight where the storm
downed old trees




May 21, 2013


forty years later
still able to feel the sting
of fiberglass


(Thinking of my dad, who built a sailboat and found ways for me to help, even though I was only five.)

May 20, 2013

May 19, 2013

May 18, 2013

May 17, 2013

even in the dark,
incontrovertibly white 
spirea blossoms


May 15, 2013

May 14, 2013

blossoms in her hair 
all morning we conspire
not to tell her



May 13, 2013

after the fall 
figuring out how to sleep
on the other side


May 12, 2013

kitchen echoes 
cooking the way she did
without knowing it



May 11, 2013

we felt it, just now —
the mist that will be
tomorrow's dew


May 10, 2013

May 09, 2013

the stretch
(as you swerve towards puddles)
of your mother's arm


May 08, 2013

this all-day rain 
the imagined joy of plants
a steady chorus


May 07, 2013

May 06, 2013

May 05, 2013

May 04, 2013

May 03, 2013

everyone else's
azaleas blooming first —
marriage equality


May 01, 2013