butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
black on blacksliding into the night sky —bats leaving their roost
enough moonlightto read a love note by —I write her one more
the sound of a phoneringing in an empty room —hope against hope
gone again —the shy moon sliding backbehind the clouds
thinking about enough —autumn grass heavy with seedbent down in the rain
we slow our stepstrying to leave a spacefor the fox, the owl
showing us how to love a cold snap —purple lobelia
cloudy autumn day —all available sunshinecrunching underfoot
a new goose movesto the front of the “V” —my dead father’s birthday
October half-moon —I tidy up the ginger snapseating the broken ones
the last few cricketsunder already sleeping trees —still singing away
pushing our fearahead of us up the hill —two weeks out
stealing from the suna little more each day —mid-October leaves
from just the first note —
you coming upstairs
I walk the edgeof the field where you birdwatch —sweet proximities
a space in my mindshaped just like your phone number —sharp sliver of moon
upside-down nuthatch — unsure if its saved seedsare here or there
imagininghow we’ll tell them tomorrow —we saw all the stars
so dark before dawnI navigate the shrouded worldby instinct
after the rain —an unstoppable trickleof puddle stompers
understandingfalling leavesas prayer
half moon at midnight —just enough light to look back at how far I’ve come
waiting for wordsto mean what they used to —hanging on with the leaves
who will believethe way the moon looked at dawnif I don’t believe
one time I came homewith everything I went for —shopping victory
still caught off guardby my heart’s drop and flip —what you do to me
watching as dawnputs the stars back to bed —the birds cry all rise
cacophonous geesecursing each other out —even by moonlight
(for AB & SB)
busy garden wren —every moment, making the choice between earth and sky
branches piled high —slowly moving our backyardsaround to the front
my grandmother’sfreshly squeezed orange juice —childhood as nectar
