butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
sunny March mornings —time to rememberthe word for crocus
the sound of wingsfollowed by my sudden gasp —mutual surprise
windchill factor —listening to the gale as wereach for more blankets
purple dusk falling —the mourning dove and I have a little talk
snowdrops pushing upthrough the leaves from last fall —more light every day
how amazed we were!in the car ride home from campmom knew the songs already
storm clouds obscuringstars and the stories they tell —we call it a night
hands gone dryfrom a winter of slippingin and out of gloves
every tiny budwrapped in bristling ice —can we afford hope?
