June 30, 2014

long summer days —
in every child's room
an argument about bedtime

(hattip to Roberta Beary)


June 29, 2014

old friends
she takes out the spoon
I like for ice cream


June 28, 2014

birthday errands
she gives the wrapping elves
a little more time


June 27, 2014

against the western sky
a flock turns
into a dark smudge

June 26, 2014

finches everywhere
even here, above
the fallow field


June 25, 2014

we catch the same fish
so many times
she gives it a name


June 24, 2014

I explain to him
about grief expanding
to fill the space




June 23, 2014

my mother’s hands
holding me up
as I learn to float



June 22, 2014

first day of summer
the song of the ice cream truck
comes closer


June 21, 2014

my open window
far above the fireflies
just below the stars


June 20, 2014

solstice eve —
the sound of tired children
refusing to sleep


June 19, 2014

I count the seconds
my mind’s eye mapping the storm
parents fighting


June 18, 2014


always fading,
yet never quite gone —
how it is, with scars

June 17, 2014

June 16, 2014

I look away
from the dead fox in the road
still it follows me


June 15, 2014

home again
the moon back in my window
where it belongs


June 14, 2014

trying to flag down
the memory of the day
I first learned your name


June 12, 2014

as if poured out
from some bucket full of clouds
slow-rolling fog


June 11, 2014

driving mountain roads
thinking about the mountains
before there were roads




June 10, 2014

where the fawn slept
amongst the flowers
a small flat circle




June 09, 2014

cross-country flight
even tiny, wispy clouds
cast shadows


June 08, 2014

in need of comfort
I lie still and listen for
the mourning dove’s coo


June 07, 2014

under the maple
haven’t you learned to climb yet,
busy woodpecker?


June 06, 2014

little fox
what do you think of the world
in this, your first year?


June 05, 2014

fighting the flood
although the old stories
urge me to give in


June 04, 2014

listening to a finch
while finally giving up
on seeing it, too


June 03, 2014

a warm damp cloth
draped over the bowl
of the Earth



June 02, 2014

tear down the old fence
to put up a taller one
our backyard neighbors


Haiku Andy!

Andrew Dugas (aka "Haiku Andy") writes a daily haiku and publishes it via social media (sound familiar). Every day, he physically inscribes that same haiku on a single postcard and mails it to someone in the world.

Today was my day!



To see more of Andy's excellent haiku, tune into his Facebook page or his Twitter feed.

Thank you, Andy, sharing your gifts and in this case, for specifically brightening my mailbox and my day!

June 01, 2014

spring fever
we spot the front yard bunny
in our neighbor’s yard