butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
we stay out talkinguntil chased in by mosquitoes —early autumn nights
a family of deerstand quietly watching me —I borrow stillness
they saw a fox oncebut was it red, or grey? —flickering memory
fallow season —we think about cover cropsand wintering over
how we celebratewhen the evening airturns cool again!
more than the old blanketshe wants her mother's handssmoothing it out
even the creeka little quieter nowas the days shorten
funeral planning —
she wonders whether her dress
seems sad enough
underfootthe crunch and roll of acorns —a rabbit looks up
getting up at first lightto make sure it's still there —mid-autumn moon
all day longlooking at the placewhere the bird had been
our neighbor's wood smoketickling the back of my throat —autumn sneaking in
tell purple astersto forget that anyoneever called them weeds
a nearly full moon —what will we try to outruntonight?
our shock worn downby successive fire seasons —orange sky again
fast-growing grassand end-of-summer sales —fall quickens her step
the season's first buckrefusing to move aside —who was here first?
catching and tossingspiders out onto the porch —not ready for fall
windows rattlingin time with the thunder —the storm lets itself in
counting all the waysour fathers gave permission —high grass left unmown
starry skiesabove wide open fields —she takes me there
summer at the lake —catching perch just to feel themswim away again
flashes of sunlight —late-nesting goldfinchesand their world-building
eyeing the radarto see if the rainmight start up again
all the flooded homesconnected by a new stream —death shrinking the world
stepping stoneswashed downstream in the flood —we stand on the bank
rows of tiny leaveson their way to something big —one last planting
all that summer sunin farmer's market baskets —ripe figs and peaches
wind-whipped treetops —a painted bunting holds on tightsinging and singing
newly downed treesblocking our usual path —hurricane season
smelling crabapplesas I crush them underfoot —early September