October 31, 2013

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

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

October 21, 2013

marrow of black trunks
amidst swirling red leaves 
after chemo


October 20, 2013

October 19, 2013

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

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