butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
in the springwe thought it would maybe lasta month or two
waiting out the year —the Raritan’s muddy banktamped down by ducks
the small of my backremembering the feelingof your hand there
stay up with meuntil we’re hungry againuntil the moon sets
snow melt runningthrough the land to the lake —we leave our tree up
memorizing choicesbefore my glasses steam over —bakery challenge
gibbous moon —we hope the foxes will findour leftover gift
gusting winter windagainst a steady furnace —we’ve all taken sides
ducks on the lakelooking for ways to be alone —late December
how quiet we weretrying not to wake the baby!years gone swiftly by
tomorrow will bringone more minute of daylight —make a plan with me
each frozen puddlea few seconds of ice time —crows jeering overhead
winter morning walk —all the sledding hills jeweledwith iced-over snow
snow transformedinto embodied sunlight —melted, dripping gold
neighbors in synch —we slice and lift upwet snow in layers
yard birds getting ina few calls back and forthbefore the snow sticks
the field gone to seed —will you come to me orshould I come to you?
explaining winterhe makes his fist the Earthour laughter the sun
even the little dogwoodwe just planted this springgets a string of lights
Christmas tree farm —
one field of tiny saplings
waiting their turn
songs my father playedwhen I was still a baby —notes slipped of their words
black lives still matter —she re-inks the lettersIn our handmade sign
bringing downthe last of the sweetgum balls —winter's first snow
she teaches me the songof the white-throated sparrow —listening for spring
restless winter night —the cold tightens its fistas an owl looks on
holiday baking —Oma’s notes to herselfguide me instead
cold December air —starlight quenching a thirstwe didn’t know we had
startling the sparrowstucked into the azaleas —the sound of wings
dark-eyed juncohopping along the fence —common and yet not
whose wish prevailswhen the turkey wishbone cracksright down the middle?
first frost —test results coming backpositive
tornado watch —we talk over the winduntil we can’t
we lay corn stalks downover the mud and walk on —frost in the shadows
saturated flashsimultaneous startle —the bluebird’s piercing blue
our numbered deadsitting here on my chest —the moon keeps rowing
the name of this landbefore my people stole it —Lenapehoking
more light at nightalthough the days grow darker —waxing gibbous moon
Asia Fostergone from this earth at 22 —I cannot get warm
where our yards meet nowjust a huge wheel of a stumpand so much more sun
wind stirs the woodsmoke as the dark clouds thicken —what are we making?
the fox looks back andI feel my place in the worldfold in on itself
November morning —we watch the wind undoall that leaf raking
dwindling crescent —night-blooming nicotianaopen for one last drink
down amidst the leavesrabbits reminding each otherfrost will come again
seven crows regrouparound the neighbor’s chimney —we’re all seeking warmth
each day shorterthan the one before —I race the sun home
home all day —I share my water bottlewith the windowsill plant
tangle of uprooted vinesyellowing grass underneath —no clocks to turn back
nicotiana —white flowers even brighteras the sun slips down
bare branches at last —in between bouts of rakingwe touch wood for luck
cold night airand the scent of pine needles —our gloved hands touch
the sound of acornsfalling into the leaves belowas the fog burns off
all the grandfatherschristened by grandbabieswho could say Pop-Pop
at the forest’s edgea flock of wild turkeystrading escape tips
Northern harrierbanking hard to double backover our gasps
November morning —wide open blue sky a prizeafter all that fog
the sound of sirensbefore we smell the smoke —too-early dusk
trees standing aroundto watch me run the table —I line up the moon
laptop cooling fansputting in for overtime —Election Night
the way the sunlightfinds its way through the trees —November dawn
a good soaking rainand a story worth telling —I come home to you
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
at the startof a new chapter —I slip in a bookmark
(for @KrisLindbeck)
mailbox spiderweb —“Did we get anything good?” father’s daily plea
involuntary —thoughts of our night togetherspilling into day
last call —starlings by the treeful talking out of turn
was the great horned owlhaunted by us afterwardsas we were by her?
running through fogbefore the world wakes up —can I trust the earth?
mourning routine —a few minutes in the cararranging my face
(for JD)
early autumn —walks that start in darkness,chestnuts underfoot
rudbeckia stemsin a slow-falling tangle —autumnal equinox
just before dawnVenus brighter than any star —just how I see you
sound of a hammer —remembering how easymy father made it look
you turn toward me —the lake suddenly brimming with sunshine
sunset at the dambefore we knew she was gone —so much to hold back
miles overheadthe wind brings news of the west —greyer and greyer
goldfinches in fall —we ride the sunflower headsdown to the ground
those quiet secondsbefore it all comes rushing back —ebb tide
in my dreama goddess loses her earring —Neptune before dawn
my love stops walkingto capture fields of flowers —my photo is of her
uprooting stiltgrass —we try to make roomfor spring
we talk, too,about the sky that morning —how fiercely clear it was
close your eyesto see more clearly —I’m still right here
no more petals
just these dark centers
full of seeds
the Big Dipperright where we expected it —starry comfort food
underfootthe crunch of a fallen leaf —so many more to come
stones washed in sadnessthe words long since wiped away —mourning our losses
overhead in the darkfueled by remembered sunlightbirds flocking south
sweet summer night —I want to pull down the moonand give it to you
quiet streets —emboldened foxes strollingright down the middle
treating myselfto a nice long strollthrough baby pictures
blinking back at usfrom darkened fields damp with fog —the eyes of a fox
when wearinessis indistinguishable from grief —willow trees bent low
imaginingthe mud has healing powers —we learn from our boy
with every daya little more grapevinea little less tree
gone-to-seed grasstickling her palm as she passes —summer’s handshake
trickling inas the birds dry off —today’s dawn chorus
cycling hometo the cheers of my neighbors —so much closer now
bandages and water —protesters go on a runfor supplies
every downhill pathnow slick with fresh mud —we grab for each other
just the one rain cloud —we take cover togetherher smile my sun
pandemic lap lane —long hair wavinglike seaweed
acorns underfoot —the squirrels so busywith forgetting
afternoon ravenstucked into shadowed nookstheir black eyes watching
scanning the treetopsfor a bird whose song I know —anniversary
thistles swayingunder the weightof goldfinches
cloud-crowded skiesno sign of the Perseids —I wish on a memory
loon songsan echo of freedom —we take turns crying
the ides of August —grasshoppers punching throughto cooler air
mid-summer sun —the front yard bunnyforgets to be afraid
cosmos and ironweedsharing their corner of sun —we chose well, you and I
great blue heron —still point around whichthe Earth revolves
tasting my own saltas the heat wave shimmers —meadowlarks singing
