up past our bedtime —
the stars swing back around
to check up on us
butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
December 31, 2024
December 30, 2024
sounds of winter —
a young buck scrapes his antlers
on a black tree trunk
December 29, 2024
mourning dove songs
now made of melted ice —
missing winter
December 28, 2024
Carolina wren
rooting under fallen leaves —
snowflakes drifting down
December 27, 2024
walking into town
we remember the old game
of synching our steps
December 26, 2024
this year's edition
of the great migration —
pine needles everywhere
December 25, 2024
reading behind you
so we meet in the story —
save me the best bits
sounding out the chords —
our son returns to his
childhood piano
December 24, 2024
our Prep and Landing
Christmas Eve tradition —
every line by heart
December 23, 2024
more sub-zero days —
yellow-bellied sapsuckers
tag team up the maple
December 22, 2024
remnants of tall grass
frozen and blown down at last —
winter takes over
December 21, 2024
candles flickering
as we push through the long night —
winter Solstice
December 20, 2024
melting so quickly
we look skyward to be sure —
yes, it's really snow
December 19, 2024
all month we wait
for that white-throated sparrow
with the raspy call
December 18, 2024
after the drought
delight in the luxury
of puddle stomping
December 17, 2024
checking to see if
I have enough condolence cards —
nothing is promised
December 16, 2024
approaching solstice —
the stack of books by our bed
begins to teeter
December 15, 2024
making a new pair
out of two mismatched mittens —
winter invention
December 14, 2024
cold winter moon —
my friend cleans her mother's house
one last time
December 13, 2024
we work on puzzles
without looking at the box
from the edges in
December 12, 2024
we untangle the lights
and find the wreath hook —
Christmas songs on loop
December 11, 2024
wood smoke's faint note —
the neighbor's cozy evening
wafts over the fence
December 10, 2024
stillness embodied —
only the hare's watchful eye
gives it away
December 09, 2024
I throw my small hope
as high and hard as I can
watching for the turn
December 08, 2024
a double-ringed moon
shines down on the old oak
just a few leaves left
December 07, 2024
we watch the fox
coming home after hunting
a squirrel in its mouth
December 06, 2024
back to wondering
if the birds might also be
grumbling about the cold
December 05, 2024
in the shade's blue light
saved by the colder ground —
a few flakes of snow
December 04, 2024
old photographs —
looking for the moment when
something was missing
December 03, 2024
long frozen nights —
the bird bath transforms into
a skating rink
December 02, 2024
kindergartners
showing off their dragon breath
on this first cold day
December 01, 2024
World Aids Day —
hopes for a vaccine
rise with our prayers
November 30, 2024
The Past Is Prologue
We don't have to imagine what will happen if Trump detains and/or deports huge numbers of illegal immigrants as he has repeatedly said he plans to do.
Twelve years ago, on the heels of some state-wide restrictions on migrant labor, reported Julie Strupp wrote a great piece in MIC:
"We need to face the facts: our agricultural industry is built on illegal labor, and it needs to be reformed."
Read the full article here (it's not long)!
(HT: Flynn Talwar)
November 29, 2024
holiday baking —
folding in some music
along with the eggs
November 28, 2024
a good soaking rain —
on the long row home our boats
fill up with water
November 27, 2024
Thanksgiving prep —
scrubbing root vegetables 'til
the water runs clear
November 26, 2024
November 25, 2024
now the bees give up
on finding any pollen —
this will have to do
November 24, 2024
withered reeds —
the marsh draws in on itself
its mud crazed with cracks
November 23, 2024
ruby crowned kinglet —
so light that the branches
don't even bend
Weekend Reading from Kelly Hayes
"Defiance must be woven into the fabric of our daily lives, rather than simply proclaimed at marches or on social media."
Collective Survival, Adaption, and Direct Action
(from Kelly Hayes' Organizing My Thoughts)
November 22, 2024
a long soaking rain —
the places that were once soft
begin their comeback
November 21, 2024
rain at long last —
strangers finding common ground
in "we needed this"
November 20, 2024
all this fiddling with
my internal thermostat —
sweaters on the floor
November 19, 2024
my best friend's birthday —
we longingly look for
a chance to meet up
November 18, 2024
watching for bats
as the sun hurries down
to check on Europe
Protect the Press
Call Senators re: the PRESS Act
(HT Celeste Pewter, Greg Pak, Senator Wyden)
We need the press. We need them to be investigators, not stenographers. And we need to protect them so that they can keep digging.
(Read more on the PRESS Act here.)
Do you have the phone numbers of your Senators in your contacts yet?
Here's a handy link that can tell you who your elected officials are at the local, state, and federal level: https://myreps.datamade.us
Unrelated:
November 17, 2024
before the song starts
the sound of an indrawn breath —
I join the Earth's choir
November 16, 2024
unprecedented —
even just hearing the word
adds to my exhaustion
Weekend Reading from Andrea Pitzer
"Authoritarians aim to destroy the social fabric and to isolate individuals. Anything you do to counter that is good work. We may or may not see heroes in our time, but we can be sure that the most vital work will done on a smaller scale day in and day out by regular people."
Read Andrea Pitzer's excellent full piece, Swept Into The Flood, here:
https://degenerateart.beehiiv.com/p/swept-into-the-flood
November 15, 2024
cool evening air
with a full moon presiding —
no crickets left to sing
November 14, 2024
Yet
when the glass has slipped
from your hand but it still
hasn't hit the ground
Don't Roll Over
Sherrilyn Ifill (former President. & Director-Counsel, NAACP Legal Defense & Educational Fund) says,
"Don’t throw in the towel. Rest, then call your Senator - Dem & Repub. Tell them you expect them to do their constitutional duty and have real confirmation review & hearings for Gaetz, Hegseth, Gabbard & all cabinet nominees. Don’t let your Senators give their power to Trump w/o a fight."
Here's a clip: https://bsky.app/profile/sifill.bsky.social/post/3laxiugfhik2j
The Capital Switchboard's number is 202-224-3121. To look up your representatives' contact information, try this handy little tool: https://myreps.datamade.us
Put your Senators' and Representative's DC office numbers in your phone. Then add them to your favorites. Consider moving from a default position of never calling them to a default position of calling them all the time.
Unrelated mic drop:
November 13, 2024
hoarfrost on windows —
for the first time this season
I warm up my drink
Protect Your Peace - So You Can Engage
Dear friends and loved ones,
"With this election, we’ve joined the rest of the world. Think of all the other nations that live under moronic, venal leadership. There are models for honorable political lives in those circumstances, but those models are quite different from our dominant notions of citizenship in which we follow politics as a spectator sport and occasionally vote. All over the world there are people in repressive settings who find ways to live as free human beings, act in solidarity with their neighbors, and fashion strategies to resist state power. We’re going to need to get good at practicing that kind of politics.
One of the dangers is that people will instead become demoralized and retreat into denial, that they will seek refuge amid the pleasures and fulfillments of private life. That would give carte blanche to power. There was a term used in central Europe to describe those who opted to retreat into private life under totalitarianism. They were called “internal emigres.” That is certainly tempting at a time like this: to live one’s life in the wholly private realm, enjoying the company of friends, good food and drink, the pleasures of literature and music, and so on. Privileged sectors of our society are already heavily skewed that way. It’s a real danger at a time like this. If we withdraw from public engagement now, we aid and abet that which we deplore."
November 12, 2024
my best friend shows me
how to weave gingko leaves
into my hair
November 11, 2024
mourning doves
trying to remember
how to celebrate
November 10, 2024
rain at last —
I let myself get lost
in the sound of it
November 09, 2024
before the berries,
the sharply pointed leaves —
holly trees in fall
November 08, 2024
I watch the fox
until only its ears show
two points in the grass
November 07, 2024
electrical fence —
no one seems to be reading
my warning sign
November 06, 2024
foreboding
Batsto Lake
on an oddly warm fall day —
not a bird in sight
November 05, 2024
going to sleep
knowing that it will be dread
that awakens me
November 04, 2024
wired and tired —
we all compare notes on
how we'll get through it
November 03, 2024
we carry bath water
out to our ironwood tree —
seven weeks of drought
November 02, 2024
rain for a minute —
around us the sound of trees
getting their hopes up
November 01, 2024
deeper every day —
our Jack-o-Lantern sinks
back into the earth
October 31, 2024
four of King Henry's
six wives appear at the door —
Hallowe'en treats
October 30, 2024
my old hair color
returned to me
in a spray can
October 29, 2024
we see what we look for —
my mind fills in a bird where
there's only a leaf
October 28, 2024
cozy blanket —
I wake up to the sound
of the heat coming on
October 27, 2024
the stag and I enter
a staring competition —
I need some antlers
October 26, 2024
when we gave up
and sat on a fallen log
the birds came to us
October 25, 2024
seven weeks of drought —
the stony bed of the creek
comes up for air
October 24, 2024
letting go at last —
the orchid I've been tending
on its own timeline
October 23, 2024
warm weather surprise —
the tickle on my hand
becomes a ladybug
October 22, 2024
we leave the leaves
in the yard where they belong —
blankets for the roots
October 21, 2024
after the game —
sore throats from yelling
as if they could hear
October 20, 2024
sugar maples
on fire in this
late afternoon sun
October 19, 2024
late night fight —
territorial foxes
yelling back and forth
October 18, 2024
another clear night —
a great blue heron flies
low over the lake
October 17, 2024
three years later
we can still see the scars
left by the cicadas
October 16, 2024
raccoons in the park
foraging for fallen pears —
near-full hunter moon
October 15, 2024
four new tires —
I take the corners faster
just to feel the grip
October 14, 2024
half the leaves down now —
we put our coats on hooks
where we can grab them
October 13, 2024
neighborhood potluck —
the big kids keep the small kids
out of trouble mostly
October 12, 2024
through the long morning
I stopped and sang to children
pocketing their smiles
October 11, 2024
old leather jacket —
National Coming Out Day
but everyone already knows
October 10, 2024
kids in strollers
holding leaves in their fists —
flags of autumn
October 09, 2024
Sarasota plan —
my cousin puts a crowbar
in the attic
October 08, 2024
first quarter moon —
a hurricane's shadow
crosses my heart
October 07, 2024
one of my students
came down with a high fever —
glad I'm still masking
October 06, 2024
up late on Sunday
even when we know better —
yawning in the forecast
October 05, 2024
small brown sidewalk leaf —
when is the last time
I saw a toad?
October 04, 2024
lying still enough
that the vultures slow down
for a second look
October 03, 2024
in between stars
I think I hear an old song —
protect each other
October 02, 2024
listening for crickets
before I close the curtains
for the night
October 01, 2024
pumpkin season —
the moose of Alaska
enjoy their new snacks
September 30, 2024
I change my route home
so it crosses the fox's —
knowing where to look
September 29, 2024
our fifth kind of aster —
tiny calico blossoms
crowd-source their sunshine
September 28, 2024
water in places
that have never seen water —
no way out, no plans
September 27, 2024
humid morning air —
geese under the bridge startle
as I run over
September 26, 2024
retirement savings —
finally getting smaller
after all those years
September 25, 2024
I've lost the cricket
that snuck in with the paper —
I wish it would sing
September 24, 2024
cool mornings at last —
every fallen branch looking
like a walking stick
September 23, 2024
skunk scented air —
the farm stand takes down its signs
one crop at a time
September 22, 2024
on the edge of drought —
the doe tucks her fawns in
with stories of rain
September 21, 2024
waning full moon
as we head towards autumn —
let me watch you sleep
September 20, 2024
September 19, 2024
scuffing through leaves —
I kick myself all the way back
to childhood
September 18, 2024
nearing confluence,
announcing their intention —
geese on the move
September 17, 2024
I counted six bees
on the goldenrod today —
or maybe three, twice
September 16, 2024
resisting autumn —
I leave my socks
in their drawer
September 15, 2024
imagining the job:
holding doors open
as our children choose
September 14, 2024
the smaller the sweeter
purple fingers telling tales —
wild blueberries
September 13, 2024
kitchen cactus —
to truly show it love
we leave it alone
September 12, 2024
freshly squeezed lemon —
I find the nicks in my skin
by the stinging
September 11, 2024
we stayed still so long
the goldfinches forgot us
coming close after all
September 10, 2024
bats all up under
the patio umbrella
'bout to make their move
September 09, 2024
turning over stones
nestled in the creek bed —
brief, tiny whirlpools
September 08, 2024
egrets and great blues
each making claims on their own
section of shoreline
September 07, 2024
young praying mantis —
we check each other out
as the world slows down
September 06, 2024
day by day
more sunlight captured
by the goldenrod
September 05, 2024
late summer sunshine —
lavender pods just out here
asking to be crushed
September 04, 2024
I trace your route
and trust it will bring you
back home to me
September 03, 2024
Birth Story
he asks one more time
about the pain; I tell him
that wasn't the point
September 02, 2024
early fall due date —
I spend the summer swimming,
practicing breathing
September 01, 2024
summer's end —
it seems that no one has told
our zinnias
August 31, 2024
untranslatable —
the spirit of happy welcome
that comes with osiyo
August 30, 2024
sweet corn season —
happy for the trouble
of peeling back silk
August 29, 2024
seeking safety —
sparrows checking overhead
in between sips
August 28, 2024
oaks full of acorns
just starting to think
about letting go
August 27, 2024
sitting still
while the river rushes on
as if I have a say
August 26, 2024
the baby yawns —
we let ourselves remember
how tired we are, too
August 25, 2024
local flooding —
a bumblebee pulls itself
to the puddle's edge
August 24, 2024
crickets calls
in between folk songs —
late summer concert
crickets calls
in between folk songs —
late summer concert
August 23, 2024
skinned knee
taking me all the way back
to third grade
August 22, 2024
the wind kicks up
a memory of my father
trimming our boat's sails
August 21, 2024
knowing as I fell
that I could roll into it
that it could have been worse
August 20, 2024
full moon here with me
somehow the same moon that pulls
far away you
August 19, 2024
carried to shore
by a wave I never saw —
sand still in my scalp
August 18, 2024
Disneyland all day —
permission to be a kid
shining from every face
August 17, 2024
Brazilian steakhouse —
so much meat we didn't
even have dessert
August 16, 2024
willets gliding in
wings flashing white in descent —
the last time today
August 15, 2024
we warn the fox
to stay off the road
right before it crosses
August 13, 2024
we will not dry these,
make tea from them, or a poultice —
they're just for today
August 12, 2024
filling our small home
with the smell of baking bread —
a day well begun
August 11, 2024
find yourself
a three year-old who will run
right into your arms
August 10, 2024
old trees in decline —
each day between the branches
we see more sky
August 09, 2024
another storm
another limb —
the old tree lets go
August 08, 2024
pulling our flag
back down off the roof —
hurricane season
August 07, 2024
walking home at night —
I wait under the linden
until my eyes adjust
August 06, 2024
we sleep in again
and let the grass grow long —
holding onto summer
August 05, 2024
the fox slips away —
almost immediately
we doubt our own eyes
August 04, 2024
edges curling in —
evidence of the heat wave
in these yellow leaves
August 03, 2024
closing my eyes
to better hear hooves drumming
on the polo grounds
August 02, 2024
dolphins and surfers
breaking free of the ocean
just to dive back in
August 01, 2024
hot days stretched out
so far they can't hold their shape —
we sit stuck to the couch
July 31, 2024
four drops of rain
thrown sideways from a cloud
that kept it moving
July 30, 2024
hot summer nights —
we drive into the mountains
chasing cooler air
July 29, 2024
after-image —
most days it's the fox I see
pausing to look back
July 28, 2024
corn on the cob —
the stand at the field's edge
piled high with treasure
July 27, 2024
we move the small hill
made from last year's fallen tree
one shovel at a time
July 26, 2024
cloudy day swim —
a five year-old asks her mom
where's the sunny spot?
July 25, 2024
taking out the trash
after choosing a new fighter —
more spring in my step
July 24, 2024
when did cicadas
become the loudest voice?
(late night summer choir)
July 23, 2024
waking up tired —
come sit next to me and breathe
be my calm center
July 22, 2024
mosquito morning —
a fast-flying hummingbird
adds to the buzz
July 21, 2024
full moon with crickets —
our half-eaten garden flowers
plan to try again
July 20, 2024
sage in summer —
I run my fingers through it
to bring the scent with me
July 19, 2024
the sound of the wind
translated into scratches —
branch tips at the screen
July 18, 2024
squirrels with white tails —
reactions separating
visitors from locals