butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
if they can't stand uswe will wait and watch them sweatwe who have always been
a lightning bug finds usstill holding handsas Pride month winds down
candles winking outas the wind makes my wish for me
nightly news antidote —I count the baby's toesas he lies sleeping
wide open window —I think about welcominga cool breeze and you
watermelon days —my sister still won't tell meher seed-spitting trick
the sound of wings —a sparrow turns a puddleinto a bath
after last year's droughtwe catch ourselves exclaimingover each new green
warm seaside aircarrying salt and sand —let's bring some back home
Solstice pine warbler —concentrating the sun's fireon the topmost branch
Solstice eve —girls standing beside dahliasfor a photo op
Provincetown again —walking hand-in-hand as thoughpride was a given
is this the last time?I try to listen, not worry —song of the wood thrush
clover holding onto the remnants of rain —my first barefoot day
tell about the timewe fell asleep to the soundof crickets tuning
early morning walk —saying farewell to Venusand the crescent moon
rain leaving behindflattened grass and flowerson their way back up
the flash of yellowas the flicker flies away stays with me all day
summer street games —the girls take turns testingwho can lift up who
summer coming through —silver mound artemisiashowing up after all
wildflower seeds —we wait for the meadowto trust in itself
let me think that I'mjoining the conversation —whistling at the birds
undeniablerip tide pulling me —this need for rest
my watering eyesreflecting back scarcity,precarity
throats full of smoke —fledgling cedar waxwingssing down the octave
just beneath the wind I hear my father saying"Great day for sailing!"
shorter and shorter —the fledgling's hesitationbefore it takes flight
earlier sunrise —the birds sing out to ensurewe don't miss it
backyard drama —a blue jay's hawk imitationscatters the sparrows
just the sound of kidsmessing around at the pool —June starting out strong