Category: Issue 18.2

a glimpse of deeper seas tidepool

bougainvillea blossoms following the wind to the beach

evening cool the beachcomber’s cloudy eyes  

the big questions remain unanswered i deadhead the petunias  

kudzu those things we neglect  

mosquitoes their own version of birdsong  

old songs I gently scoop a cricket from the tub  

early autumn the deepening taste of the well water

sweet melon a wasp and I have seconds

Indian summer the cat and I chasing the same fly

shallow pond a muskrat swims through the sun  

first raindrop on the lake the monk’s prayer gong

I saunter deep in the labyrinth the stillness of autumn

straight talk we come to a fork in the road  

her hand on my wrist moth dust

hospice the head-tilt of a tulip

bus stop languages good-bye we all understand

first steps a toddler trips over a fallen leaf  

fall leaves cover the base path home

October dusk the quiver in a robin’s tail

crimson rosellas – how many years since I whistled?

evening clouds in no hurry this baseball game  

among the raindrops sharp nods of the pansies  

the shell of a farmer’s stand October rain

rolling hills . . . autumn settles differently on each one  

downsizing sunflowers blooming in a bronze vase  

no more politics dead-heading the day-lilies

morning fishing we circle around the same subjects  

silence the white space around your poem

amid the stones of the soldiers' cemetery edelweiss     (second prize 21st Mainichi Haiku Contest International Section)

civil war cemetery the flower holders empty  

a minaret sharpened by moonlight distant gunshots  

fish tank the four corners of the world

as I plan my day an ant travels the globe of the peony bud  

more questions than answers driftwood

late autumn boiling the color from frozen carrots  

black friday two crows tear at a plastic bag  

bills due– in my dream the endless stairs    

all-night laundromat my pyjamas toss and turn in the dryer

long nights of absinthe drinking what’s left of the moon

daymoon a bullfrog’s big gulp

pizza night teaching the grandkids card tricks  

puberty we take turns touching the electric fence

wedding vows a watermark on the hardwood floor

feathers caught in the chain link fence another miscarriage  

The Alchemy of Grief Some of the tears he whittles into fine points. Those are good for gouging out his eyes. Others he distills. At night, blind and drunk, he pretends

forest fire smoke dominates the sky — the lost dominion of birds  

news of a poet’s passing birdsong  

late autumn mother’s walker now mine

orchids on her tombstone my shadow  

day break — my dog wakes up shaking off yesterday

cat collar the little bell rusted silent

morning cool the street piano’s silence

the ants all fall in line city life  

winter night crickets on the sound machine  

night without sleep a boat slips its moorings

bare-root plum the faith it takes to plant a tree

filling the field’s expanse with its slenderness . . . . tufted blue gamma grass  

separating night and day comma moon

fireworks – bare branches fracture the moon  

New Year’s dawn… cranberries for the mistle thrush

new year’s day regifting my mother’s meds  

a grid of white squares on the calendar doing life  

editing a line the cigarette coal's precarious length  

paging through another evening deep winter

all the trappings of a privileged upbringing hothouse tomato

winter storm the winding heap of apple peel

scrolling through old friends’ accomplishments winter stars

the ins and outs of a social network –ant colony  

so real these plastic flowers- my butterfly mind  

winter’s end an old man’s cough in the crow’s caw

the line to his IV drip morning glories

once a school… tulips line the hospice drive         (Previously appeared in The Betty Drevniok Award, Honorable Mention, 2018)

eraser dust the touch and go of perfection  

winter moon dad’s watch in my sock drawer

soft rain on mountain wildflowers — my mother’s voice

monsoons begin with each day's rains the hills turn greener greener     Originally appeared in beyond the horizon beyond (Vishwakarma Publications 2017)

summer day the fisherman catches a wave

midsummer lull the ants regroup

sultry night slack spun into the line of spider’s silk  

late summer what the cicadas insist I know  

change of trains a busker hurries through the minute waltz  

moon shadow where the singer takes a breath

daffodil shoots parts of us emerge from hibernation           (Golden Haiku Competition, 2018, Golden Triangle BID, Washington, D.C.)

full moon we leave our clothes on the cabin floor

snowed in deep white drifts quilt the night  

Valentine’s Day a child sounds out candy hearts

every love story ending the same – petrichor