As the seasons change once again around this blue planet it is again a privilege for us here at TINYWORDS to present many voices from around the globe. Welcome to issue
late-summer tidepool . . .
rockweed sways
with the in-and-out of waves
summer dusk
hands scented
with tomato vine
overthinking
autumn equinox
summer’s end
a book returned
by a friend
summer blues
wisteria high in the branches
of a dying tree
Still faces it
the sunflower
withered by the sun
lone sunflower
in the zinnia patch…
the struggle to belong
expatriate
her adopted tongue’s
word for home
the ups and downs
of a September day
goldfinches
(haiga)
words in a jar—
another try
at forgiveness
letting the tea steep
the questions
we don’t ask
river stones
taking the path
of least resistance
sinking in
with each step forward
pickerel weed
fox tracks
a new path
to the creek
wood ducks
their calls
chase them upstream
deepening drought
. . . dinosaur tracks
rise out of the river
dragonfly wings
a map
of water
notes trickle
down a riverbed of sand …
the memory of water
(Originally appeared in the 5th edition of the Santoka
Flashpoint 572
In early May he assisted with logistics and media on one of the big forest fires burning in northern New Mexico. This was my son’s first battlefield
getting straight to the point cactus splinters
a slug hole
in the mushroom cap
first raindrops
drumming
the earth awake
first rain
storm clouds
the marching band
picks up speed
desert rainstorm
a flood of
wildflowers
wildflower meadow
the names you’re not here
to tell me
Twilight
the autumn hills
give up their colors
cycling with
the brakes half on…
autumn sunset
letting go of
what’s not mine
prairie wind
dead hollyhocks
nodding in the wind
all hallows’ eve
someone stirs
in the darkened house…
All Hallows’ Eve
a pair of odd socks
folded into each other –
month of remembrance
sixty years on
the bulge in a knuckle
grazed by a fastball
stars over the fairgrounds
I guess the number
of jellybeans
stars
at every turn
ferris wheel
forming
my opinion
daymoon
riptide / we won’t go back
(haiga/formatted haiku)
redlight…
greenlight…
sandpipers
on the beach
seismic shift
a world a war
within and without
(last one previously published in Femku Mag, Issue 33,
along the ramparts
of the ruined fort
wild parsnip
sunflowers
in the ruins
a child’s voice
seedpod rattle
missing the daughter
I never had
sunshower
answers to questions
I never asked
a blue vase
of white dahlias
floating clouds
the music of the spheres
in my dreams I know the words
(haiga)
mid-autumn
the carelessness
of leaves
thinner
day by day
autumn woods
family reunion
a buffet
of personalities
canyon switchback
each autumn
narrows the trail
high table
a parliament of crows
breaking bread
(originally published in Blithe Spirit 32.1, 2022)
November sky
another word
for blue
slipping the hook
to swim free
deep water day
bluegill at a mayfly hatch
ring after ring
reaches the shore
surface ripples
the songs my mother
knew by heart
late autumn
the old piano
covered with photographs
garbage night
I lift the lid
on my neighbor’s secrets
no mail today—
the postman returns the trash can
to the widow’s garage
snow-capped mountain
she chose
a cloistered life
open black casket
the snap of her
kiss lock coin purse
winter trees
only the sound
of a crow
(Originally published in EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaboration, 2018)
garden party
an evening breeze combs
the willow
wildflower honey
the blackberry underside
of a cloud
she walks
out of the shadow
he casts…
a pea tendril
coils upward
anniversary dinner
taking stock
of restaurant peas
Mining for gold at dawn kalinga sagar
(haiga)
may i be so graceful the flight of a swallow
end of autumn-
i leave the flower shop
with a grasshopper
the road trip
not as planned –
thistle fluff
deep river
the places
that call us home
(haiga)
spiral galaxy
the whorl
of a thumbprint
guitar lessons
my youth
an improvisation
only child —
born in the landscape
of let’s pretend
bruised peach
and her nana’s rabbit foot—
the child’s see-through backpack
popping up
behind the book
cat ears
my blue bathrobe
worn at the hook spot —
New Year’s Day
The front door
wide open
a shooting star
more war news
the slow bleed
of hibiscus tea
(Originally published in Mariposa #34, Spring 2016).
headstone inscription
the vocabulary
beyond her years
drowning out
the war news —
spring peepers
cultural evolution
the shifting patterns
of whale song
Sunday morning by the sea
how reverently
we eat ice cream
beach volleyball the moon in play
distant laughter . . .
lights
of an anchored ship
a hot date
the gentle creaking
of moored boats
(Originally published in Frogpond vol. 43:3 (fall) 2020).
true blue the bower bird’s allure
winter camping
the dark matter
that hums to us
breakup talk —
our breath mingling
in the winter air
fern spores
the ellipsis after
your goodbye
(haiga)
new moon
a higher standard
of solitude
(Originally published in Frogpond 44:3 Autumn 2021).
launch called
between clouds
glimpses of the moon
all the time in the world aspen grove
Milky Way
the cigarette shorter
than the ash
hanging over us
an icicle
the length of March
spring burial
light around the edges
of the clouds
telescope images
the birth of stars
already gone