butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
at the world's edgea quiet whisper of light —colors get ready
front yard bunnieschasing each otherinto spring
we stand stillbecause the fox has stopped — the moon waits, too
tomorrow's sunwill shine on open flowers —witnessing the verge
will the robins choose the same tree again this year?
fiercer than the wind —this male robin calling outto his unmet mate
first love —tomorrow's rain will washthese blossoms away
when I open my heartthe grief backs upand overflows
one hula hoopspinning us all the way backinto five year-olds
as I leave for homeshe holds out a jar for me —preserved summer sun
virtual meeting —another day of no oneseeing my sweatpants
vernal equinox —the moon hollowed outwith waiting
rain and more rain —gold slipping in on a slantat the very end
you sit next to meas your flowering daphneperfumes the yard
farther and farther —we reach all the way backfor the baby stories
Appalachian Trail —he weighs his backpackone more time
we shush each otherstraining to see past nothing —foggy mountain road
layers of mountains
holding wonder for the first
legs to cross over
new moon —I think of my mother after she's gone to bed
one last patch of snowsliver of moon overhead —so much close to gone
with the snow gonefall's flattened grass reappears —we just want to rest
pussywillow buds —we struggle to believethat it's been a year
warmer air at last —spring announces itselfwith a sneeze
barbed wire songof a red-winged blackbird —early spring rust
I keep saying itbecause it keeps being true —missing my old friend
waning quarter moonand the leftover snow drifts —melting by the day
early March —I put the mouse where I hope an owl might find it
our eyes seeking outthe snowdrops we counted on —still something's missing
we stand in snowon the shady side —unvaccinated
this wind tonightpulling low notes of protestfrom everything it touches