butwait.blogspot.com || At least one haiku I am comfortable sharing. Every day.
at the startof a new chapter —I slip in a bookmark
(for @KrisLindbeck)
mailbox spiderweb —“Did we get anything good?” father’s daily plea
involuntary —thoughts of our night togetherspilling into day
last call —starlings by the treeful talking out of turn
was the great horned owlhaunted by us afterwardsas we were by her?
running through fogbefore the world wakes up —can I trust the earth?
mourning routine —a few minutes in the cararranging my face
(for JD)
early autumn —walks that start in darkness,chestnuts underfoot
rudbeckia stemsin a slow-falling tangle —autumnal equinox
just before dawnVenus brighter than any star —just how I see you
sound of a hammer —remembering how easymy father made it look
you turn toward me —the lake suddenly brimming with sunshine
sunset at the dambefore we knew she was gone —so much to hold back
miles overheadthe wind brings news of the west —greyer and greyer
goldfinches in fall —we ride the sunflower headsdown to the ground
those quiet secondsbefore it all comes rushing back —ebb tide
in my dreama goddess loses her earring —Neptune before dawn
my love stops walkingto capture fields of flowers —my photo is of her
uprooting stiltgrass —we try to make roomfor spring
we talk, too,about the sky that morning —how fiercely clear it was
close your eyesto see more clearly —I’m still right here
no more petals
just these dark centers
full of seeds
the Big Dipperright where we expected it —starry comfort food
underfootthe crunch of a fallen leaf —so many more to come
stones washed in sadnessthe words long since wiped away —mourning our losses
overhead in the darkfueled by remembered sunlightbirds flocking south
sweet summer night —I want to pull down the moonand give it to you
quiet streets —emboldened foxes strollingright down the middle
treating myselfto a nice long strollthrough baby pictures
blinking back at usfrom darkened fields damp with fog —the eyes of a fox