shallow stream
we cross a bridge
of stars
Tag: journeys
immigration line
a red thread caught
in her teeth
pub. credit: Upstate Dim Sum 2009/11
just this morning
the first magnolia buds
opening—
my mother’s unwed initials
on the suitcase she brought east
friday evening
the last car to board the ferry
in front of me
thunder
at the bus stop
the posture of rain
rainfall
a feather on the pond
changes course
platelets—
the trip we were planning
to plan
pub. credit: Modern Haiku 41:2 (2010)
migrating geese—
wind flaps the scarecrow’s
empty sleeves
home from the city—
waiting at the station
Orion
Original version published in Shamrock.
milkweed
leaving everything
behind
my journey begins:
a few snowflakes
flutter in the breeze
how do they manage
migrating geese taking only
their shadows
airplane window
mountains move
slowly past
just because
the sky is navigable—
thistledown
alone at last
she chooses the road
less travelled…
in her wind-blown hair
salt air and wildflowers
scenic route
i brake
for a maple leaf
moonlight on aster
i take
the long way home
early bus—
catching my reflection
in the police van window
previously published in 3Lights, September 2009
the climb
over barbed wire…
trumpet vine
just past mauve paddling hard for a dark shore
loneliness
the boat finding
its own way
at the top of the hill
I am still
the same size
first published in Roadrunner August 2006
Missouri highway
this night there’s only me
and a radio preacher
thoughts unspool
with the white line
road trip
published in Frogpond 34:1
at a crossroads
summer wind
through prairie grass
previously published in: Jim Applegate, ed., Small Canyons 4 Anthology (2009),
the road home each bend unwinding an earlier version
in the apartment
that he never tried to leave
a map of the world
jet lag
she unravels
his half-finished sweater