December 31, 2015

midnight fireworks
we find ourselves back
at the beginning

December 30, 2015

back from our trip
the birds here at home
sounding new again

December 29, 2015

fiftieth birthday
I feel the gravel slide
under my wheels

December 28, 2015

a queztal’s cry
sets us all to looking
who will see her first?

December 27, 2015

just after sunset
between the birds and the frogs
a patch of silence

December 26, 2015

we try again
to imagine these mountains
before roads

December 25, 2015

Costa Rican Christmas
we pause to let a crab
cross the road

December 24, 2015

a trail in the sand
where a child dragged her towel
for emphasis

December 23, 2015

sorry, snail!
now I see you are still
using that shell

December 22, 2015

approaching footsteps
my heart still jumps up
at the thought of you

December 21, 2015

we fill the long night
with our questions and stories
mid-winter Solstice

(This will be my last haiku here for a little bit... but not because I'm not writing! Just taking a step away from the digital life as the year turns over. Please consider taking this opportunity to poke around in the archives... you could even leave me a - *gasp* - comment!)

December 20, 2015

on the world’s exhaust
December lilac buds

December 19, 2015

its worth reflected
only in his children’s eyes
grandfather’s old chair

December 18, 2015

three pigeons
arguing over their places
under the bridge

December 17, 2015

happier still
when a second voice joins in
early morning song

December 16, 2015

she asks again
where it is we’re going
early Alzheimer’s

December 15, 2015

you lift your eyes
to follow the hawk in flight
I watch you instead

December 14, 2015

our clothes clinging
as we come in from the fog
how will it taste?

December 13, 2015

keys on the counter
as we pull the locked door shut
geese fly on ahead

December 12, 2015

one hawk watching for movement
on the edge of flight

December 11, 2015

left on the platform
as he steps aboard
brakes releasing

December 10, 2015

my apology
lodged to the left of your heart
another near miss

December 09, 2015

our to-do list
with being lazy together
right up at the top

December 08, 2015

to feel the sun on my face
as the days grow short

December 06, 2015

holiday baking
I think of my grandmother
standing at the sink

December 05, 2015

blade by blade
our lawn going to frost
while we sleep

the azalea leaves give up,
turning gold at last

December 04, 2015

the day’s last sunlight
poured out over the lake  
scarcity. abundance.

December 03, 2015

early December
a groomed field of winter wheat
where the corn once stood

December 02, 2015

looking away
how my father taught me
to see the stars

December 01, 2015

holiday baking
but nowhere for me to send
your biscotti now