butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
lit by a low light —translucent, near-pink earsof the rabbits
pokeberry leaninginto some unclaimed sunshine —tornadoes long gone
underneath the treea spot that stays mostly dry —we move our chairs
the wet one from todaya dry one for tomorrow —my summer swimsuits
moon in the morning —rabbits chasing each otheraround the maple
500 days on —we tell old travel storiesto keep them alive
singing as she fliesfrom my garden to yours —summer's first goldfinch
back to the creekfor more wild berries —only if they're ready
tiger swallowtails
in amongst the rushes —
our hearts rise with them
fireflies risingsilently over the field —freshly cut clover
walk with me at dusk —fill in the flowers' colorsfrom memory
summer haze —news of the western fireswritten in our sky
the scent of cakefinding her still asleep —first gift of the day
fledgling catbirds —not sure yet which branchesthey can trust
approaching thunder —the feeling of being rolledby a wave
one hummingbirdshimmering in the heat —green flame against blue
rudbeckia picking upwhere the primrose left off —garden choir
we imagine bearseating as they amble —wild blueberries
the older he getsthe more we tell each otherbaby stories
rain-starved hills turning
a darker shade of brown —
how long can we wait?
stories punctuatedby moths bumping into screens —the moon listens in
the tilt of my knifeas I choose honey for my toast —morning sunlight
rain in the forecast —we wait for the birds to comedown from the trees
hearts sinking down fromrescue to recovery —the rain starts back up
we wait to seeif the blown-over blossomswill stand up again
teaching my computerthat coolyo is a word
hot summer nights —suddenly remembering the sound of Big Wheels
a conversation —she shows off her new flashllght,we wave our sparklers
iris and azaleafinding some untapped sunshineover our front walk
questions and regretsdrifting over with the smoke —unwanted fireworks
first day of July —a map of California fires blooming