butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
scrambling eggs —the whisk beating in the bowlalways my father's
tissues and pillows —nothing to reportfrom the sick room
red, gold, and orange —we claim a front-row seatfor the coming change
Rosie wants to knowwhy we keep calling her cute —so cute!
days and nights of clouds —the moon tries one more timeto break through
coastal storm surge —the last flowers of summerknocked down for good
thinking aheadto the light we'll be missing —fall equinox
reaching for blanketsas this late September rainfloats down as mist
pellets of bonesat the base of the tree —an owl's resting spot
tuggingat these loose threads of summer —white-throated sparrow
one last push —flowers working overtimeto give their seeds a chance
my friend from way backsends me a picture of sky —together in blue
at the centerof the quiet patchI found a fox
the sound of rainmaking its way down to earth —something soft lets go
pollinatorsin slanted afternoon sun —every bloom sacred
cooler evening air —let's stand for a momentat each open window
as soon as we leavethe birds return to their bath —a dance in each day
the bees and moths accept an invitation —tall purple asters
now who was itI was going to sendthat poem to?
little goldfinch gangdescending on the garden —no seed is safe!
tiny tomatoesfrom seeds that were hiddenin the compost
she waited until
no one was watching
and then slipped away
spreading out slowlyinto the still night air —scent of a skunk
reaching backinto my childhoodfor my mother's hand
gentle surrender —every growing thing bends downbowing to the heat
sometimes at nightI imagine my grandfatherrunning away again
last days of summer —children at play in the fieldsrefusing to come in
we treat ourselvesto old albums, saying"He still makes that face!"
at last the cornfieldsgrow tall enough to get lost in —September sunshine
it seemed to us thenthat the moon had stayed fullfor an extra night