new year’s day
noticing the polka dots
on her red dress
Category: Issue 03
A curious chill
facing the new year’s corner –
unavoidable.
puff of exhaust
hangs
in the empty intersection
new year
a thin layer of rainwater
coats the window
eating snow crystals
from a rhododendron leaf,
the tufted titmouse
bus driver
while passengers sleep
he admires the view
only ice
in the plastic birdbath
scattered feathers
Back country roads
the hush of tires
against snow
snowy garden –
the fat buddha looks
smaller today
morning commute:
colder weather
same station
even worse
than the baby’s screams,
its silence
4:30PM –
frost, still,
on the pavement.
spinning
the big dipper
with a finger
winter morning
old farmer
sowing the icy walk
midwinter blooms
on all the white lilacs
fresh snow
early snow
in my frontyard
one more color
in the cold mirror:
lined face
above an old sweater
piebald dawn
naked branch tips quiver
in rising wind
the red balloon
begins to sink
last call
overpass:
on every streetlight
twenty pigeons
night terminus
on the platform
unbroken snow
side street
after the train departs–
silence
towering clouds –
childhood memories
of dragons
winter surf
a dog smells distant places
on other dogs
icy river
for a short time caught
in silence
four languages
around the chess board;
suddenly I feel hopeful
Squirrel
an exclamation point
on the white page of snow.
sunset–
the beach fence darkens
near the moon
fresh from the bath:
my hand curves
to greet her
New Year’s —
even the Buddha wears
a bright red hood for luck.
All night rain
the gaping roof
her shelter
Counting
and recounting his pennies
outside the butcher’s
approaching storm —
his daughter hasn’t told him
about the car dent
morning news
with the paper, I bring in
a cherry petal
The whine of chainsaws
in morning’s early light – –
ice storm in the south.
dim sum
on the hand painted teapot
cherry blossoms
new snow
my footprints fill
with shadows
A motionless horse,
at peace in the field,
in the quietly falling snow.
sore throat this morning –
the crocus just manages
to swallow a snowflake
wintry creek
a pair of mallards
paddle close together
the whoosh of steam
from the espresso machine —
frosty evening
saying good-bye
my hand warms
the iron gate
sudden wind
blowing in from somewhere
yesterday’s news
still pond –
the
gentle
curve
of the swan’s neck
rusted red wagon,
a puddle of leaves
on the trampoline
rush hour traffic:
from the pick-up bed
a recliner faces me
old photo
my father as a child
looks past me
walk along the bank –
I´ll never ever keep pace
with the river
pot of shamrocks
growing on the windowsill
brogue in the wind
after a March storm
walking the tide line
a murder of crows
haiku world . . .
plum blossoms
trailing ellipses
lengthening shadows
the fisherman casts
his reflection
Haiku spring:
white blossoms
on an old, black bough.
Scarlet and sodden
beneath melting spring snow –
her Christmas mitten
holding hands
our blue shadows
touch
a curled ant
on microfiche ~
tiny words
Zazen –
dew fading
on the car windows.
broken string
the dragon kite swims
into the wave
spring morning
sun and fresh paint
on the windowsill
construction site —
sizing up a new high-rise,
the pigeons
sunlight
a sparrow crosses the river
to Brooklyn
after the downpour
heavy clouds and fluffed pigeons
share the pavement pool
spring storm . . .
her hair is full of
white petals
noon rush
trying not to notice
the waitress’ mole
after spring downpour
the swollen mountain spring
flows in my yard too
No blossoms this spring
old cherry tree stark and bare
where she used to play
squirrels nest
at the top of the white birch
penthouse apartment
under a spring moon
my neighbours air
their dirty laundry
Freak April blizzard–
lawn-care sign forlorn on a
plain of icy white.
in the wet snow
even the squirrel’s tail
is bedraggled
awaiting
friends
returning geese
along the roadside,
obscured by tumbleweeds,
a stand of white crosses
April morning stars—
barn swallows chattering
at driveway’s end
crab apple buds
quiver in still air
the first jay
Gazing up in the parking lot
I mistook the streetlight
for the moon!
playground
after the rain–
the sound of traffic
at day’s end –
even the pebbles
cast long shadows
war on the way
I pull enormous weeds
from my tiny garden
winter night
I keep the telemarketer
talking
sunlight
between pier planks
sunfish
breakfast together
the silence about things
that matter
this spring night…
suddenly my desires
are very simple
Mother’s Day:
he swims out
to where he left her ashes
Swollen river,
a boulder’s hollow thud –
all night long
chasing the waves
spring moon
soft beneath my heels
grey drizzle —
a yellow rose bobbing
petals down
an old house
near the cemetery
wild flowers
white gusts
of faded apple blossom
still no rain
disused rail bridge
the bungy jumper’s
taut cable
yellow ribbon
tumbling down the street
in the gritty wind
morning stroll:
a blade of grass
clings to his shoes
a cactus bloom’s
yellow translucence
blacktop highway
steady downpour . . .
cormorants on the snag
just the same
a driving wind–
the stop signs
all flattened
warm afternoon
the pear tree’s shade
in the neighbor’s yard
In the well
studying her image
a woman
rooftop sunlight
temporarily blinds
the sparrow
through the pinwheel
her reflection
in the mirror
blue sky
I almost miss
the morning glory
towering pines
a bobcat prowls
in the early mist
astronomy book
the Sea of Tranquillity
heavy in my hands
smoke from the fire
mingles with the stars
hugging my knees closer
leaf
mites and a grasshopper step on each other
sunrise in the river…
I let the fish
bite my toes
Waves upon the shore
children playing at the beach–
waves upon the shore
asphalt & roses
on the still air —
June heat
splinters of sound
the carpenter’s hammer
crafts a bookcase
pine trees
like jagged teeth
eat Willow Lake
the world disappears
except for the sunlight
through lace curtains
a butterfly pair
follows the young couple
along the boardwalk
street sweeper
showering the pavement, fragrance
of summer rain
at dusk
moths gather
to the painting
red pennant
snapping in the breeze
lifeguard’s whistle
summer morning:
a mallard keeps just abeam
of the fisherman’s boat
shop window
my face reflected
on the mannequin
glimpse of a deer —
I reach for my camera
too late
dog day afternoon
a grasshopper jumps
in front of the lawn-mower
hawk on an updraft
showing me how
to relax
the moon flutters
in the evening breeze
there in the water
Fluorescent blue:
nigella
on a rainy day.