Category: Issue 19.2

subtexts we cross the invisible flight lines of bees

saving for a winter’s day gold-dusted bee

the sharp pop of cooling lids prickly pear jam  

artichoke flowers singed to blue summer’s end  

summer gossip the endless song of cicadas  

late summer the sky a tangle of kite surfers

neighbor’s yard three white butterflies braid the air

monarch out of nowhere– and in the next breath gone  

here for the time being wind-sculpted tide pool

beachcombing — I fill my pockets with regret  

this ragged rhythm counting the beats per minute late summer dusk

shaken from my sleeping bag… seeds of another summer       (Originally appeared in Chrysanthemum 15, April 2014)

she’s quite famous she tells me dandelion seed  

all my rough edges smoothed out by salt air morning stroll (haiga)

Tlingit dance — the memory of the memory of a friend

getting out of it what I put in didgeridoo  

outdoor theater the canyon wren’s clear soliloquy    

everyone gets a bow peonies  

kitchen moon a cricket sings from my shoe

mid-throw my dog catches a new scent  

home run the baseball leaves us all behind  

first inning a taste of the hot sun in mustard

end of summer– the hot dog vendor’s last customer

twilight losing sight of the whiffle ball

roadside memorial morning glories ruffled by the wind

cemetery a woodpecker’s taps  

for each grave a different verb carried, lifted, borne         (Originally published in what a [hiding] place, Cyberwit, 2019)

nightmare unhinged all night the banging shutter  

hurricane rain floating leaves in the wheelbarrow  

climate change rally a toddler secure on his father’s shoulders  

a ruckus of crows outside the polling place all-day fog  

cicadas drone one campaign promise after another  

razor sharp with his divisiveness wrapping the border wall in concertina wire

overcast sky the census taker asks if I live alone

Veteran’s Day he salutes with his missing hand

a fawn at the heels of a lame doe sun mixes with rain

afternoon sun an oarsman breaks another cloud       (Originally in A Haze of Infinity, the London haiku group anthology, 2017)

autumn leaves more sky  

unmarked grave … a thousand red maples offer their leaves (haiga)

belonging where I don’t belong giant sequoia  

outlasting everyone she loved – heartwood

the slit in a cicada’s husk hospice garden

narrowing arteries — my friendship circle dwindles

her good days… scattered sunlight in the garden  

autumn afternoon… I walk around inside a Van Gogh

bubbles scattering children  

grackles the teen boys raid the fridge  

iced melon a granddaughter’s grin overflows her face  

crowded sidewalk briefly part of a family  

autumn rain nothing new in my e-mail  

insomnia… my computer goes to sleep

forgotten frost I add a name back to my contacts  

art of cursive the barn swallows inking a washi sky  

one autumn cloud meandering pony ride

shoe box my cat takes on its shape

sunrise yoga my body bends into daylight

noon the bonsai’s shadow barely there  

days end the sound of sunlight glinting off a distant jet  

first light her hands already full of the day’s chores  

chairs overturned on dusk-lit tables– a pause in the broom  

dining alfresco starlings break formation on our server’s tattoo

the rill’s trick a greenfinch moves its green around       (Third Place, 2018 Henderson Haiku Contest, Haiku Society of America)

little things clearer now chickadee

a visit home all the bird songs sound the same  

pinning it down with a song childhood memory  

just an excuse to kiss you mistletoe

empty terminal the last bus riderless departs on schedule

book club all the characters driven to drink

deep winter dive bar stares from an unfamiliar face

preparing my face for the other faces class reunion

revolving doors the lies we tell ourselves

Walden Pond the whistle of a train crosses the years

morning quiet a minnow nabs a gnat

wheelchair tai chi a dragonfly flexes its wings

pond strider the silence of Cassiopeia       (Originally in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 2:2, Spring/Summer 2019)

late road trip pulled over by the full moon  

rush hour a cross-hatch of contrails  

spring afternoon every passing car throbs with hip-hop

evening fog I follow frogsong all the way home

no fly in a flicker of the bluetongue’s tongue    

a new mountain trail in my chest defibrillator

submerged skiff- all the fish it catches  

rent arrears my son’s goldfish swims around its castle  

beached seaweed all the tangles of this life

falling light rinses over his face… father at the sink  

crow’s nest in the crook of a tree winter bones

growing at an angle winter sapling

agreeing to therapy dishes dry on the rack

deep winter a spider’s web in the skylight

an old cedar grove behind the ancient temple– deep wisdom  

wedding eve the clink of bangles in red

yin and yang snow paints the coal yard

silent clouds the sharp pop of a hunter’s gun

deep winter the small comfort of tea tins

hothouse roses without a scent those words of comfort you almost offered

hometown diner– whispered rumors of misplaced love

pop-up snowstorm the swirl of Van Gogh’s starry nights

spring breeze the happy wave of long johns