butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
white dogwood blossoms —a poem we learned by heartwhen we were children
the drop inside mewhen the blurry dot resolvesand becomes you
almost feelinglike a kiss as they pop —blown soap bubbles
we interruptour quiet indoor lifefor some moon basking
pushing on up through last year's leaves —wildflowers
drawing a pencildown the edge of a ruleras my father did
why are some plants weeds?our five year-old neighborand her good questions
nearly full moon —counting the days until immunity
dreams of springpressed into the pavement by last night's rain
frost in the forecast —all over town, people prayingfor the blossoms
trying to feelthe sun's warmthin my bones
forest violets —I pick you a bouquetwith my gaze
lawnmowers growlingand the scent of onion grass —sure signs of spring
summer danglingright where we left it —lavender stalks
every nightshowing us what we wanted —a little more moon
my recent reading —layers of rolling grey cloudsno sign of the sun
light spring drizzle — the chorus of mate-seekersdoesn't even waver
vine-choked trees —we feel the stress and griefworking on us
the color of hope —annuals coming back to lifeafter all
finding at last in youwhat I didn't even knowto wish for
young leaves —the beginningsof a new language
three notes repeating —the white-throated sparrowclears her throat
our first sightingin the wild this year —teens in shorts
everywhere I look —fewer of usthan there should be
nesting plovers —understanding ourselvesas dangerous
color works its charm —we tell the weedsthey can stay
Easter morning —mud at the pond's edgedotted with frog eggs
spring break —dads playing driveway defensegirls making their shots
saturated ground —the sorrow comes welling upwhenever I'm still
busy gracklestelling each other off dark wings glinting blue