she understands
the language of frogs
summer wind
Author: Barbara Kaufmann
Barbra Kaufmann is a retired RN with lots of time for writing poetry, photography, gardening, walking and grandchildren!
a day of knitting
loose ends together
brain fog
spring
hanging her best silks
in the wind
finding a place to rest the scent of autumn
the struggle
to keep going
summer heat
the ups and downs
of a September day
goldfinches
telling stories of long ago the sound of rain
tall grasscarries the scent of the seafishing memoriesfrom my childhoodthe father I lost
in the beginning cherry blossoms
all the planswe thought we hadsandcastles
living willthe kids know all I needin the endsunlight on my faceand ice cream every day
all my rough edges
smoothed out by salt air
morning stroll
hospice pond
a ripple settles
into stillness
soft rain
on mountain wildflowers —
my mother’s voice
chilly morning
my spring coat
stays packed
in a moon garden
filled with night bloomers
we stroll away
a blue hour
your hand in mine
just where the sky
meets the sea—
laughing gulls
a few ducks for company the long way home
wildflower walk
the
path
veers
off
through winter
Haiga
woodpecker song
luring me deeper
into solitude
dawn stillness
a blue heron
rising without a ripple