Haiku
Pale pink winter skies
graciously cede to steel blue
as dusk settles in
Myriad snowflakes
silently fall, caressing
each branch of the trees
Amid the mounds of
March snow a bird chirps
singing the promise of spring
An idea forms
and dances through the
geometry of my mind
A motorcyclist in
leather and cowboy boots
mounts his iron horse
Daily I watch a
rosebud open at an
exquisitely slow pace
My daylily patch –
a raucous area of
riotous colors
As the sun sets it
pours radiant molten gold
into the North Sea
Only one raindrop
is required to cause an
autumn leaf to fall
Finding subtle richness
in the poverty of
November landscapes
Two deer came into
my yard tonight, gentle
reflections of my peace
A fat robin sits
atop a branch on my apple
tree – spring is near
I saw snow in springtime
cottonwood fluffs gently
shimmering down
Butterflies lilting
among purple coneflowers
and black-eyed Susans
The soft, intimate sound
of my lover’s breath
as he lies next to me
I discovered this evening
during a walk that
God is in movement
The old tree’s skin is
dry and cracked, but she is
not yet ready to die
A midnight snowfall
quickly returns spring landscapes
back into winter
In the night forest stillness
the soft silent sound
of emerging buds
To see a raindrop
in its descent suspended
in time-space: the Tao
Late-summer crab apple
leaves turn yellow and drop –
autumn harbingers
The fresh pine scent
in the forest refreshes
my senses and my soul
A tiny icicle forms
as two drops slide down
a delicate branch
Life from dead branches:
the amazing resurrection
in the forest
Reflecting off the brook
the sun dances on an
overarching branch
The nadir is birthed
at the precise moment when
the apex is reached
The night forest
canopies me with comforting
anonymity
She birthed me into yoga
from the womb of her
nurturing sangha
She can tell she’s aging when
only older men
look and drink her in
Fireflies, butterflies
iridescent dragonflies:
blessings of summer
An overcast autumn day
breezy, mild, moist and
invigorating
Two owls comfort me
as they hoot their love song in
the pre-dawn darkness
Mighty elms erased
from streets by disease
still grow tall in the forest
I saw a small field
filled with Queen Anne’s lace:
Grandmother’s morning glory