Category: Issue 25.1

spring equinox
a crack splits
the frozen river

 

river rush
trees green
into birdsong

the rite of spring
piccolos rush
the conductor

 

new regime…
daffodils gauge the weight
of each snowflake

 

negotiations
another day
of snow

 

left up all winter
signs from fall’s election
warped

newsindigestiblebytes

dinner date
all his attention
on the menu

wet leaves
clinging to my shoes…
new resolutions

 

Whispering Wind

 

On my early morning walks, I often search for the red-tailed hawk perched in the topmost branch of a cottonwood. From this vantage point, she

subtle shifts
of a swallow-tailed kite
twilight jazz

Gita chanting
  birds become
the ellipsis

 

 

 

(Originally received an Akita International Haiku Award, September 2014, Honourable Mention)

awakenings
the ping of first sap
in the bucket

 

seventh heaven
a lotus breaks
the surface

the call to prayers —
in the din of Diwali
a ghee lamp glistens

zen garden
cat prints
through the raked sand

 

dreamworker
the dog at the door
of childhood

 

grave frost
in my cupped hands
a robin’s weight

 

church bells reaching for belief

the vows I’ve made—
moving the hose
from tree to tree

grieving a fire
I embroider trees
my needle a wand
raising old growth
if only on cloth

 

redwoods strengthening my password to blue sky

a half-moon—
the things she remembers
she soon forgets

 

multiverse –
the thirty-six views
of Mount Fuji

 

 

small talk
a tongue of fog
creeps up the coast

 

(Originally published online in Ginza Poetry Society Kukai)

talking politics
my line hangs up
in the lake bed

 

the fire
in his belly
brook trout

 

 

dusk
a fluff of cottonwood
wends its way to the pond

 

Roadside Rationalizing

I never have a plan. Like a watermelon at the end of its vine, I find myself where I’m supposed to be.

out of gas another shooting star

 

another stranger
far from home…
lone coyote

 

mesa shadows
sheltering briefly
in the adobe ruins

canyon wren –
a concert in
the cacti

bird nest
in the porch light
Mother’s Day

 

Mother’s Day —
in her 50s cookbook
handwritten notes

family tree
the twist
of a strangler fig

 

wing-worn geese …
this urge to leave home
to find home

 

 

gated
complex
in the grip
of wisteria

 

moment of silence—
dry ice fog
drifting to the end zone

 

valley mist
the things
I might have been

 

 

garage sale
a rusty coffee can
full of pennies

old vinyls
the wobble

 

(The above is a tan renga written by Billie Dee, San Miguel, New Mexico, USA and Richard L.

spring wind
a wheelchair sways
to Zumba beats

 

farmers’ market
the crisp snap
of a paper sack

cricket sounds
his story loops back
to the start

The Photo I Didn’t Take

It’s misting heavily, and two city workers, street sweepers, are smoking beneath a ledge. Above them, pigeons huddle and sink their heads into

nyc
so many ppl
idk

 

 

starlight
the right
of asylum

 

winter clouds—
the torn teddy bear
of a homeless child

 

the long crack
in the prison wall
winter twilight

 

shortcut
a train ticket
in a crow’s beak

 

caws becoming specks becoming crows

the child that
never came to be…
face in a cloud

 

 

 

(Originally published in Blithe Spirit, Volume 34 / 3)

earthworms
at the doorstep
winter rain

 

winter grazing
the hoof prints of cattle
gone to slaughter

 

polar vortex
an anchor of ice
steadies the lake

wedding anniversary
gold larches
in the rain

 

bus stop twilight …
I inhale every puff
of a stranger’s cigarette,
the favorite brand
of my deceased father

a cocoon
stirs
graduation day

lake shimmer
a jetty stretches
towards dawn

heat lightning
cease fire
on the horizon

 

fence line –
the weeds
stand their ground

 

golden anniversary
the chipped coffee cups
she pours into

 

so long
since our last kiss . . .
puckered blueberries

 

origami
a heron’s neck
folded in sleep

 

summer morning
the lightness
of white linen

 

two weeks
since losing the baby
withering heat

Summer afternoon
a Bach sonata
cools the air

 

inlet sunset
fog tendrils trailing
the last lobster boat

independence day

       a sweep of egrets

over the twilit lake
 

three beach chairs
empty, but for one
first star

 

gathering
calls of oystercatchers
the wind

neon puddles
the whoosh of traffic
on a summer night

beach resort hotel
the gift shop price
of a sand dollar

 

roaming the boardwalk to the end of summer romance

 

the chill
in the mannequin’s eyes
end of summer sale

 

barnacled rock
the sea claims
its own

ghost town
the red rose bush
in full bloom