tree swallows swooping
out and back over the field
just because they can
butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
August 31, 2025
August 30, 2025
some day he'll be gone —
what can we work to build now
that should exist then?
August 29, 2025
belted kingfisher
waiting patiently beside the lake
until we find him
August 28, 2025
slanted evening sun
picking up the purple seeds
at the tops of sawgrass
August 27, 2025
coastal flooding —
hurricane season
reminds us who's boss
August 26, 2025
yellow flicker —
the day squeaks open
on a rusty hinge
August 25, 2025
orange skimmers on
the zinnias, then the yarrow —
so many choices!
August 24, 2025
birdbath bluejay —
the flashy red cardinal
waits his turn
August 23, 2025
he sends us selfies
so we can appreciate
his first dress shirts
August 22, 2025
tiny bits of down
left behind by the birds
after their bath
August 21, 2025
so far up the oak
we have to look straight up —
yellow-bellied sapsucker
August 20, 2025
anniversary —
fourteen years of saving
room for dessert
August 19, 2025
stealthy hermit thrush
pulled by curiosity
comes to check us out
August 18, 2025
city street trees —
leaves hanging low
in the summer heat
August 17, 2025
brush trucks
scooping up all our trimmings —
metallic soundscape
August 16, 2025
we cut back bamboo
to give the ironwood room —
sky is to be shared
August 15, 2025
Venus the brighter
with Jupiter edging in —
our pre-dawn light show
August 14, 2025
children moving out —
my friend and I trade stories
of stifled advice
August 13, 2025
remembering
that not looking sometimes works —
a few more fireflies
August 12, 2025
trying to picture
the world as it could be
starting from this place
August 11, 2025
scared day laborers
translating for each other
at the council hearing
August 10, 2025
four am brain whirl —
lining up letters for my
next protest sign
August 09, 2025
stilt grass erasing
the footpath along the lake —
we walk the memory
August 08, 2025
getting older
yet every full moon
remains the same
August 07, 2025
chickadees in front
cheerfully sharing the news
of the safer spots
August 06, 2025
smoke from faraway
fires we can't even see —
the birds fly lower
August 05, 2025
peach season —
we dream of the feeling
of juice dripping down
August 04, 2025
a chipmunk shrieks out
a warning as we walk past —
we scary monsters
August 03, 2025
watching the stream
of wasn't meant to be
flow on by
August 02, 2025
sweet corn season —
my mother asking us to
husk it on the stoop
August 01, 2025
the lightest rain
resurrects a childhood dream —
dodging the drops