wildflowers

rutted service road
knee deep
in wildflowers

night sky

the night sky
raining stars
fireworks

Independence Day

homeless girl playing
with her unraveled hem
Independence Day

city bus

reflections of Rome
cross passengers' faces
city bus

heron

heron
wading into
the cloud

river baptism

rising
in a nimbus of midges
river baptism

quavering heat

quavering heat
cicadas cry
in tempo

white lie

white lie
a veiled beekeeper
puffs smoke at the hive

cumulus

cumulus
crossing the blue pools
of her gaze

swan song

a mute swan's song
from its carved wing bone
first flute music

stone age flutes

riding in the rain

My father was an avid equestrian and disciplinarian. His four daughters dreaded riding with him because he sternly and constantly corrected our form or technique. When I was 15 and more interested in Seventeen magazine and fashion than going on horseback with my dad, that's where I found myself one early summer day. I wish I could remember why we went riding together; I certainly wouldn't have gone willingly.

As we guided our horses up the narrow trail through the aspen groves and Indian Paintbrush of the national forest--dad in his cowboy hat in front and I, bare-headed, in back--a light, warm rain began. I do recall the easy quiet between us with only the sound of soft rain, squeak of saddles bearing our weight, and a horse's hoof striking an exposed root or rock. Just as vividly I can still smell the ozone, the woods, and the scent of wet horse and leather.

warm rain
only the trail before us
silence between us

moon-gazing

moon-gazing
even from this rock
an astronaut

watering can

watering can
wilting plants revived
with simplicity

by Afton

windrows

windrows
red as his allis chalmers
the farmer's face

midnight jazz

midnight jazz
rain streaming down
the verdigris chain

the shortest night

the shortest night
fireflies outshine
the stars

midsummer

midsummer
on its shimmering thread
spider poised halfway

verandah

verandah
the deaf man
listens to the rain

summer's warm breeze

summer's warm breeze
wanting to hear again
my name in your voice

moonless night

moonless night
the hounds howl
only in my dream

bitter

the taste
of pine's bitter honey
these bitter tears

reunion

sepia souls smile
from a photo negative
reunion

overgrown grapevine

overgrown grapevine
unsigned divorce papers
heavy in my hand

relentless sun

relentless sun
my lips meet the cool arc
flowing from the hose

Cassiopeia

limned in light
across night's dark scroll
Cassiopeia

sego lilies

In the Wyoming high country sego lilies bloom for only two weeks in mid-June. Their exotic beauty is unexpected amid sage, aspen and pinon pine. My Mormon ancestors foraged for these nutritious bulbs in lean times. To me, they were a true sign of summer as the snows receded from the foothills.

homesick--
hungry only for the beauty
of sego lilies

sweltering stillness

sweltering stillness
the nurse flicks a bubble
from the syringe

silver dawn

silver dawn
slug traces iridesce
on the garden path

live oak

live oak
dripping moss
dripping moonlight

sidewalk chalk art

sidewalk chalk art
marilyn's mole
crawls away

flower moon

flower moon
the nightshades
unfurl

afternoon heat

afternoon heat
tandem damselflies
bask on a reed

thistles

yanking up thistles
the confession
I regret

summer heat

summer heat
kimono hung on the wall
billows from the fan

rose grafts

rose grafts--
I sit as my daughter
draws my portrait

faded postcard

faded postcard
the Nagasaki temple
before

publication

Catch my latest haiku published in The Heron's Nest.

hydrangea

hydrangea
on one hand pink
on the other blue

lilacs

scent of lilacs
family gathered
for her last breaths

last cast

last cast
the fly's graceful arc ending
at the rainbow trout

fig blossoms

fig blossoms
my daughter asks when I lost
my virginity

night sky

night sky
from the beginning of time
birth of a star

spring trail

spring trail
the squeak of new leather
on an old nag

blind date

the blind date
who never arrives
last match in the book

morning after

morning after rain
perfumed silk puddled
by the bed

peonies

double peonies bloom
on the artist's canvas
and just beyond

blue

bathed
in blue dusk
the blue heron

mayflies

mayflies
rising from the river
with the fog

graduation day

graduation day
the unworn
cap and gown

daily haiku

daily haiku--
this practice
my only prayer

yin/yang

curled head to toe
sleeping girl and her dog
yin and yang

moth

even if it knew
the flame's seduction
moth

walking after dark

walking after dark
the moon
follows me home

brain fog

cottonwood seeds
float in a clump of fluff--
brain fog

loss

a friend's miscarriage--
looking into the blank eyes
of an antique doll

coming summer

spring turns summer
her blush
as he holds her gaze

gardening gossip

over the gate
gossip turns to gardening--
dirt smudge on my face

mailbox

long walk
from the mailbox
rejection letter

publication in Sketchbook

Ten haiku you read here first appear in the journal, Sketchbook.

Thank you Karina and John!

Mother's Day

Mother's Day--
dreaming the children
she will never conceive

before Dachau

before Dachau
the artist's colony
on the Amper

honeysuckle moon

honeysuckle moon--
the taste of your kiss
all these years later

spring sun

spring sun--
the dog keeps shifting herself
into the shadows

bygones

bygones--
buying a used car
from my ex-husband

garden

garden plot--
the earth pleated and planted
gives way to hope

thunderheads

thunderheads--
the 1812 overture
on the radio

barefoot

barefoot in the grass
clutch of a salamander
across my toes

planting

pressing dirt
around the root ball
a sweat bead seeps in

koan

strong yet pliant grass
pushing up through concrete--
cracking a koan

out of the bath

out of the bath
the fresh stiffness
of a line-dried towel

dandelion clocks

dandelion clocks--
turning my face
to the sun's warmth

aria

afternoon drive--
an aria
of azaleas

rain ends

rain ends--
birdsong
commences

afternoon heat

afternoon heat--
crescents of dirt
under my nails

twilight

twilight--
a new wrinkle
in the mirror

neap tide

neap tide--
loggerhead hatchlings
spill down the beach

earth day

earth day--
my ex-husband tills
a new garden plot

petal-strewn path

petal-strewn path--
the promises we made
and broke on the way

silk

silkworm--
choosing the white kimono
for her burial

first light

first light--
fishermen cast their first nets
over deep waters

grandma's garden

'mid morning glories
the sign remains:
grandma's garden

false dawn

false dawn--
the lie I pretend
not to catch you in

wisteria

wisteria--
news of a child's cancer
hangs heavy on my heart

sparks

reaching for her hand
static passes between them--
the sparks

fledgelings

fledgelings--
the neighbor child down
to one training wheel

wind-blown petals

wind-blown petals--
this fleeting translucence
passing between us

after showers

after showers
spanning the rainbow's arc
the full sky

Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday--
finding in the bush
last year's egg

pubished in Winter 2008 Simply Haiku

vigil

vigil--
weeping cherry sheds
its last petals

stations of the cross

stations of the cross--
the lamb finds
his feet

maundy thursday

maundy thursday--
in the churchyard moonlight bathes
the foot of the cross

turning

all day
turning and turning
vultures

heavy with nectar

heavy with nectar
bees turn from flower to hive--
the honeyed sunset

birdsong

birdsong--
each note a summons
to the day

ripples

skipping stones
father and son--
the ripples

spring break

spring break--
pale flesh scattered on the beach
like so much driftwood

pollen

pollen--
yellow-green fractals
swirl on the pond

light rain

light rain--
palliative drip...drip...drip
of morphine

at two years; latest publication

Sincere thanks to all of you who follow this blog. Today marks two years of virtually daily haiku. I am just a few short of 700 poems. I truly appreciate your readership and commentary.

Also, I just had three haiku published in the March 2009 World Haiku Review (see pp. 1, 2, 4).

another spring

another spring
the empty seat
at the table

abandoned graves

abandoned graves--
could I have sprung from these
long-forgotten names?

moonlight

moonlight--
afterward only silence
between us

nightfall

nightfall
enfolding both star
and wish

prognosis

a bee buzzes
on the windowsill--the sting
of the prognosis

peach blow

peach blow--
the baby discovers
the taste of her toes

visitation

visitation--
hymns of rain
on the windowpane

bell jar

placing over
the tender plant a bell jar--
my daughter's first date

plum blossoms

plum blossoms
caught up by the zephyr--
our ephemeral love

wingbeats

pink dawn--
the wingbeats of geese
returning

nightingale song

The cloistered sound
of vespers rising--
nightingale song

the whitest blossom

the whitest blossom--
only the wind
in the orchard

Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox--
raindrops on each pink bud
double their beauty

first butterfly

her astonishment
at the quickening within--
first butterfly

poppies

poppy fields--
the addict cinches tight
the tourniquet

moonset

moonset--
the distance between us
measured in breaths

moonrise

a mute swan's
silent circles--
moonrise

Ides of March

Ides of March--
masses of perfumed jonquils
bow their coronas

spring cleaning

spring cleaning--
when did she quit
playing with dolls?

daffodil

half-lit daffodil
shining in shadow--
this anodyne rain

morning run

morning run--
spun light
of a spring dawn

dogwood blossoms

white canopies
of dogwood blossoms--
taking the long way

morning star

morning star--
the newborn's fontanel
pulses softly

chopping onions

chopping onions--
reason enough
to let the tears come

moonlit beach

moonlit beach--
a first kiss the surf
licking at our feet

narcissus

narcissus--
my daughter oblivious
of her own beauty

lenten moon

lenten moon--
the bottomless cries
of hatchlings

sakura petals

sakura petals--
another spring
apart

ceremony

with steepled hands
the divorce judge
dissolves our marriage

Sunday snow

Sunday snow--
pondering the density
of the holy ghost

empty

spring snow--
the enormity
of this empty bed

publication

See my latest haiku published in The Heron's Nest.

counting

counting seconds
between lightning and thunder
litany of loss

blood moon

blood moon--
stepping into the river
my young daughter

scent of rain

scent of rain--
all the ways
we failed each other

spring meadow

spring meadow
sound of seedlings bursting
into sunlight

luna

budding branch--
luna moth dries
her unfurled wings

creekside

purling creek--
a remembered lullaby
in the mother tongue

hawk

hawk glides
bearing lightly on its wings
heaven

night sky

stars gleam
dewdrops
on a spun sky

labyrinth

labyrinth--
between pavers new shoots green
my meditation

midnight

midnight--
I wonder whether you breathed
this same air once

thunderstorm

thunderstorm--
a child sleeps
on my leaden arm

days lengthen

days lengthen--
my young nephew enroute
to Afghanistan

willow catkins

willow catkins--
newborn barn kittens
open their eyes

spring wind

spring wind--
nuns clutch their wimples to keep
from taking flight

kite

                kite
      rooted and free
 reeling the bobbin I join
      the pirouetting
               wind

cleaving

In the spring of 1993, I was nearing the end of my second pregnancy with a daughter. As she once again dug her heels into my ribs, I was able to clutch her tiny heel through my stretched flesh for a few seconds. It was a precious near-meeting in the bright world outside my womb where I knew and held all of her.

My thoughts turned to my son, the firstborn, whose tiny heel had been pricked countless times and whose burial booties had been far too big. Could he be as nearby as she with only a translucent membrane or mime's wall separating his dimension and mine?

the rising fog--
all that divides us
all that binds us



Published in Contemporary Haibun Online.

robins return

robins return--
a strand of pink ribbon
feathers a new nest

first pale shoots

first pale shoots--
whisking the matcha
to a jade froth

first tree buds

first tree buds--
untuned piano music
from the old folks home

waves

shell held to my ear--
a wave swells and rides
itself to shore

post-divorce date

post-divorce date--
rubbing the pale band
on my ring finger

away

away--
who would I be if I lived
behind that red door?

spring thaw

spring thaw...
an old friend and I
make amends

drip

finally sun--
the icicle's persistent
rhythmic drip

stargazing II

clear night--
the big dipper ladling
the milky way

nesting

robins nesting—
fresh white for the crib
she once slept in

cold front

cold front--
in the busker's guitar case
five copper coins

double

upon still waters
this rustic boat rides
its reflection

stargazing

stargazing--
is it a star or plane,
that pulsating?

spring rain

spring rain--
how the polished rock
parts the river

rumor of war

rumor of war--
lightning chars
the sweet olive

lunar new year

lunar new year--
the baby waves her
dumpling fists

winter sun

winter sun--
the dog's well-worn path
from door to dogwood

snowbound

snowbound--
the boundless form
of silence

inauguration

inauguration--
the new mom wiping tears
with a burp cloth

starlight

starlight--
slow dancing long after
the music ends

bitter wind

bitter wind--
all the sweetness captive
in this clementine

hunger moon

hunger moon--
the deer's neck stretched to reach
the last tree bark

deep winter

deep winter--
fragile ice fringes
the meadow pond

midwinter night

midwinter night--
holding a hug longer
to hear her heartbeat

Tanka

train platform--
unmistakable scent
of English Leather
the man even looked
a bit like my father

fork in the road

fork in the road--
the sign points
both ways

flood waters

flood waters crest--
a coffin bobs
to the surface

matins

breaking
the water basin ice--
matins

evensong

singing again
her favorite lullabye--
evensong

snowmelt

the taut plunk
of a cello string breaking--
snowmelt

winter moon

ferrying night
from dusk to dawn
winter moon

fire

Feeding the fire--
the spit and spark
of pulsing flame

snowed in

snowed in--
a child etches her name
in window rime

paperwhites

paperwhites...
in her pale, blue-veined hand
the teacup trembles

another year

another year--
to blow out the candles
two breaths

Happy birthday to Magyar too!

fresh snowfall

fresh snowfall--
losing her last baby tooth
my daughter's gapped smile

individuality

light snow in aspens--
in the mirror, all that
is and is not me

moonrise

winter night--
from the lake a silver blob
breaks free and rises

Gaza new year

Gaza new year--
fireworks ring in
warfare

blossoms

camellia blossoms--
The pink-fisted baby
grabs my finger

blue

crystal winter skies
counting the shades of azure
through bare branches

shadow

winter sun--
my shadow writing haiku
beside me

new year

new year--
a phone call
from an old lover

this new year
resolving
not to make resolutions

midnight

midnight--
slowly slipping off
her silk straps

winter garden

winter garden--
plaster rabbit
hops away

streams

winter light streams in--
the girl gives her blond hair
one-hundred strokes

gentle rain

Breathing velvet fog
the breath of a lover--
this gentle rain

alone

clouds cross the moon--
your back to me
alone in this bed

after Christmas

after Christmas--
poinsettia petals
dropping

Christmas day

Christmas day--
the girls set the table
without being asked

after the party

after the party--
rearranging plates
in the dishwasher

piercing cold

piercing cold--
the piercing clank
of the garden gate

wind in the pines

wind in the pines--distant shakuhachi music