at last a cloudless night —

we look across, then out,

hearts full of longing

watch this, look at me! —

all up and down the block

kids and their new tricks

hail and hard rain
bouncing off of everything
as you sink in

not a sound and yet —

heat lighting to fireflies,

call and response

foggy through the pass —

as we climb up and over

our vision extends

underneath

while we are sleeping

bamboo makes its move

peonies and mint —

spontaneous late night tea

with a friend

beneath the birdsong
I feel myself listening
for the sound of her step

finally

he has no advice —

my dying father

summer peeks in —

we leave the window open,

kick off the blankets

their petals unfurled

irises at the garden’s edge

yearning and leaning

less inviting now —

the prospect of sleep

while she’s away

fiddlehead ferns

fiercely working their way up

through patio cracks

a girl who looks like you —

far overhead, the full moon

keeps tugging away

a kind of sweet dream

that comes flickering back —

our long shared past

flattened circles

where the deer lay dreaming

amidst iris stalks

a tree we have loved

did not survive the winter

after all

a pause in the rain —

we pop outside

to cheer on the rhodedendron

(Hat tip to @sassafrasMama... this was basically a "found" haiku.

https://twitter.com/SassafrasMama/status/1128442263263223809)

in every puddle

crumpled azalea blossoms —

just yesterday

cloud-covered moon —

we compare notes

on the rain

bumblebees —

we witness

the improbable

front yard bunny —

convinced that all the clover

is here for her

already empty —

the nest by the back door

we tiptoed around

Ramadan moon —

there when we see it and also

when we don’t

thunder’s slow roll —

thinking back to when I knew

I wanted to kiss her

the entire sky

uninterrupted blue —

birds singing it full

more cold and rain —

a soggy blue jay shifts

from foot to foot

after the rain

moonlight turning wet grass

to shining spears

two girls invite

handfuls of cherry petals

to rest in their hair

azaleas in spring —

I bend down to kiss her neck

just because I can

just-opened

maple leaves working out

where the sun is now