April 24, 2017

April 23, 2017

mountain run-off
the last of the winter’s snow
now turned to blossoms


April 22, 2017

April 21, 2017

warmer spring days
bringing the return of ants
and my vicious side


April 20, 2017

we stand here watching
the dust above the road
coming, or going?


April 18, 2017

closet floor cobweb
my almost-forgotten sandals
right where I left them


April 17, 2017

April 16, 2017

why does lying down
make the stars seem closer?
first warm night of spring


April 15, 2017

brush old lines aside
start over with tonight’s stars
draw some new stories


April 14, 2017

dandelion roots
deeper than I remember
my small pile of stars


April 13, 2017

the sun, here to stay
my love finds her way up
from anesthesia


April 12, 2017

at the fog’s edge
a pair of geese planning
for their best nest yet


April 11, 2017

still in the cupboard
the special orange tea
she would have asked for


April 10, 2017

first morning of frost
wanting the spell unbroken
we linger inside


April 09, 2017

clouds beyond the hills
drawing down the dark
woodcocks in the shadows




April 08, 2017

these sunflowers
and their steady seeking
do you miss me, still?


April 07, 2017

I let my fingers trail
over the side of the day —
pale winter grass



April 06, 2017

treasured emptiness
before I open my eyes
and the tide rolls in


April 05, 2017

wind on water lilies
feeling the way you’ll move
before I see you



April 04, 2017

kitchen table fight
counting the seconds between
lightning and thunder


April 03, 2017

April 02, 2017

April 01, 2017

here comes the sun
flooded roads blooming
with tree shadows


March 31, 2017

March 30, 2017

March 29, 2017

March 28, 2017

waiting on pay day
our end-of-month menu
paired with rain water


March 27, 2017

amidst old oak leaves
March flips a card face-up
purple crocus

(Photo: Maia C on Flickr)

March 26, 2017

timeline of transgirls
understanding courage
a bit better now


March 25, 2017

final withdrawal
the snow we piled so high
shrinks back on itself


March 24, 2017

atop the stone wall
a waning sliver of moon
my indecision


March 23, 2017

March 22, 2017

investigation
our boy testing the snow’s crust
with such careful steps


March 21, 2017

vernal equinox
the afternoon alchemy
of creeks turning gold


March 20, 2017

snowmelt streams
springing up all over
tax receipts unmoved


March 19, 2017

telling each other
how we remember it
the same map, upside-down


March 18, 2017

tree trunks and car tracks
interrupting the snow’s white
I seek you everywhere


March 17, 2017

Happy Haikuversary

Four years ago today, I wrote what would become the first in a LONG series of daily haiku posts. A little while back I invited friends to join me in my celebration today, and several kind friends did just that.

Starting with Junie, the beloved duck-tolling retriever whose photo illustrated my "Wanna Play?" post:


Biscuit for Junie!
HERE IT COMES HERE IT COMES – CRUNCH
Is there another?

My friend @rwentecheney chimed in with some good luck wishes, haiku-style:

Tomorrow's the day Anniversary hoorays Sleep before the fun!

My friend Barbara, who does not typically write haiku, contributed the following two #haiku:

Small rooms with beige walls
Grim news delivered with smiles
Tears in the rest room 

Treoidation then
Now encouraged by the news
Thank all for your prayers 


While my friend Cate added this one:

darkened garden —
the stillness of trees sleeping
under new snow


My friend Marianne Paul used this haiku of mine as a jumping off point:

first light the haiku I wrote better in my dream

And wrote a new one of her own in response:

evaporation how quickly the haiku leaves me

My friend @SassafrasMama sent me warm #haikuversary wishes, while my friend @maggros asked me to write a haiku using the word "plight." So I did:

the haijin's plight half-remembered haiku seedpods in winter

My friend Paul David Mena used an image of mine as a jumping off point:


summer breeze
what we whispered

among the sand dunes

And finally, there were a few friends who offered up dates that were special to them, for whom I usually pulled a haiku from that date up from the archives. Although in Val Brown's case, I wrote a new haiku, thinking about her and her sweetie, who were celebrating a different kind of anniversary:

birds gifting their songs with no notion of return — my smile in your eyes

This one, from the archives, was for : November dusk — our candles seeming brighter by the minute

My friend @mapographer requested a haiku with a 12/25 date stamp, so I pulled this one (from all the way back in 2008!):

snow, then rain – the geese arguing loudly overhead

And finally, at day's end, @sacarlavoz requested a re-posting of this one:

bright yellow goldfinch swooping across our morning — unmistakeable

(I had a really great #haikuversary.) (Can you tell?)