night rain so fine

it seems more like a cloud —

missing Issa

overcast May day

between unruly rainstorms

feeling like held breath

(HT @MominiqueMatti, https://twitter.com/mominiquematti/status/869380456361467904)

reading old haiku —

my son is surprised

I can pick mine out

light dimming

as the rain picks up —

relay race hand-off

head at an angle

the mockingbird listens in

as we say goodnight

approaching thunder —

imagine the excitement

of the trees

outer petals

opening, falling away —

her hand on my hip

seeking any way —

the wisteria climbing

back on itself

against all this green

two male cardinals

flashing red

your smile when we talk,

the season’s first firefly —

signs of things to come

leftover roots

of the tree we cut down —

first crush memories

hoping for rain —

the ways in which only you

can quench this thirst

morning commute —

a deer picking its way

alongside the road

late night walk —

a solitary cricket

our only light

nocturnal noises —

my thoughts skitter away

down the alley

unrisen May moon —

I read you the parts

you cannot see

vultures in the rain

black wings spread protectively

over their meal

rain and more rain —

under the backyard table

a single cardinal

moon-covering clouds —

I wait until you fall asleep

before I leave the bed

beginning gardner —

second thoughts about the weeds

after she’s pulled them

mid-May full moon —

all day long the azaleas

preparing to shine

cool spring days —

in the stroller, a baby’s feet

kicking and kicking

late night snack

by the earthworm’s burrow —

maple seed wings

our delight in spring

expressed in another language —

fox in moonlight

tall white tulips

favorite of the deer each year —

still here, somehow

late night rain

so fine it feels more like cloud —

which bird will sing first?

there and not there

translucent dragonfly wings —

the world holds its breath

blustery May day —

all along the bridge

spiders start over

past hedges full

of buzz and blossom —

who kissed who first?

late spring ant parade —
each one the last
until the next