Haiku - Petals

petals everywhere —
home seeming even sweeter
as I pack to go

(I'm heading down to MD tomorrow
for some Special Time with a certain 10 year-old someone.)

Magnolia Haiku

magnolia petals
catching and spilling the light
all the way down

(hope to be able to take some pictures tomorrow)

More Sky Haiku

more sky
where the old tree
used to be

This tree at the corner of Prospect and Riverside East came down a few weeks back. All day long the next day, neighbors were walking or driving past, slowing down to take a look or standing silently near the section of trunk that had to be cut up and removed from the road. That same day a friend told me that she thinks she remembers learning that there are cultures in which a baby's first laugh is cause for an official celebration. The passing of an old tree like this one seems like a similar type of event: one worth marking in some way.

Mr. D says he thinks the tree was about 75 years old when it fell.

Spring Evening Haiku

finally
after winter's dark fastballs
some off-speed pitches

(Cross-posted at Twitter's @haikutime
and Spring Haiku 2008)
(In other news, it turns out that
the Corning Classic and Reunions
don't overlap after all!
See you next month, Grandbanana!)

Between Seasons Haiku

scents between seasons...
yesterday, onion grass
today, chimney smoke

~

Yesterday we had several visitors, and the smallest one made the biggest impression:

That's little T.M. Michaud, and he's every bit as snuggly as his picture would have you believe. We all went into a little baby withdrawal today, and Mr. D responded by creating a baby out of the available materials:

You know you've hit the parental jackpot when you ask your Tama if you can dress her up like a baby and take a picture of her, and she says, "Sure, sweetie." And yes, I have her permission to post that picture, because her boy loves the idea. Super Tama!

(In other news, can you believe they
jackhammered down
to that Red Sox jersey?
Un. Be. Liev. Able.)

fruit tree branches —
from line drawings to pastels
overnight

(In other news, we had a great visit with J, Z, M,
and tiny little T today!)

Forsythia Haiku

dusk nearing dark —
even the forsythia
gives in to grey

~

Seeing the way less light takes its toll on the colors of the world — at least as I perceive them — reminds me of another time when my way of seeing the world shifted. The first full day that T and I spent together in Philadelphia was a day like any other. We walked around town, ate a famously nondescript (and now defunct) restaurant, I don't even remember what else. But it felt wonderful, full of smiles and laughter, and as she left I experienced a burst of acute awareness... the color seemed to go out of the day, and I thought, "Oh, it was she who made the day special," with a kind of bemused wonderment. Anyone who had seen us together that day would probably have come to that conclusion much earlier. But I didn't figure it out until the door closed behind her as she walked down the stoop to her car parked on Cedar Avenue.

at the window
buzzing to get out —
the fly and I

(another long day)

Magnolia Haiku

our magnolia tree
full of birds
warming up their songs

(Long day today. Projecting myself into tomorrow morning.)