Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Haiga: Butterflies, Part 1

Haigaonline Gallery
Jan. 2018

Wednesday, December 27, 2017


cave echoes
my mistakes
come rushing back

receding tide
in the rocks
part of each wave

Frogpond, 2014
HSA Anthology 2015

Friday, December 15, 2017


                                       FERN GLEN 

We park in the nature preserve near a path that leads downward. On our left is a pond edged with water lilies and lotus blossoms. Along the outer edge grow reeds and bulrushes.  A familiar sound causes us to turn towards it.

                               an ancient poem–
                               a pond, a frog, a splash
                               widening ripples
                               continue through the ages
                               a beginning with no end

A rustle in the reeds attracts our attention again. This time, it’s a painted turtle with a shell about six inches long, moving slowly toward the pond. After watching it quietly slide into the water, we begin our descent. The dirt path is rutted and peppered with loose stones.

                                 slow and steady
                                 helping each other
                                 to keep our balance;
                                 through long years of marriage
                                 there is still a garden

Low growing plants fill in the spaces between mature trees, the green enlivened by occasional clusters of small pink or white blossoms.  At the end of our descent is a thick growth of ferns in various sizes and species, from a single shoot of only a few inches to others two and three feet high and just as wide across.   

We’re the only ones here, but others have come before us. 

                                  a hidden Eden
                                  the songs of a coursing spring
                                  the chirring of birds
                                  a bench for the weary
                                  a place for body and soul

Haibun Today
Tanka Prose,
Dec. 2017

Sunday, December 3, 2017


a quick flowing stream
in late afternoon
the hurried shadows

full moon
on my neighbor's porch
a new light

growing in abundance
a new restlessness

Presence 2015
Daily Haiku 2011
One Hundred Gourds 2012

Tuesday, November 14, 2017



The autumn chores are complete. Plants cut back. The planting beds cleared of debris. Wood stacked by the back door. Container plants we want to save brought inside. Each year we ask:  how much longer can we do this? Each year we move more slowly; the clean-up takes longer; we have more aches afterwards. Knees, backs, shoulders–all complaining loudly. Each year we think about a condo.
                                                                       a sunny window–
                                                                       begonias inside
                                                                        a bee outside

 World Haiku Review

Tuesday, October 31, 2017


Haigaonline October 2017

Friday, October 20, 2017



A street empty of people. Just the all night diner is open. Plain, devoid of sentimentality.  A sickly greenish light streams through plate glass windows. A man sits smoking, his eyes looking straight ahead, expressionless.The woman with him appears more interested in a matchbook cover than in his company.

A third customer, a man alone with his back to us, his shoulders hunched. A faceless man in a gray suit. Behind the counter, a young man in a white uniform, a sharp contrast to the darkly dressed customers. He's busy with the dishes and appears to be speaking. Perhaps to himself. No one seems to be listening.

                                   waiting the slow hours
                                   till morning
Contemporary Haibun Online, March 2007

Edward Hopper, "Night Hawks,"
courtesy of Wikimedia