spring
is coming
one door
of the deli
is open
Tag: spring
Street vendors
selling flowers
for other men’s wives
Five minutes before the alarm — birdsong, birdsong.
day at the park
picnic blankets blanketed
with cherry blossoms
spring scent of nothing burning
first thaw
pink petals
in the elevator
sprouting grasses —
deleting the contacts
i never call
walking barefoot
in the mud
a young woman
carries the world
on her head
row houses
wear tinfoiled windows
blind to spring
green tractor plowing
drags over black furrows
a lace scarf of gulls
On a bed of leaves,
a deer skeleton picked clean,
save one furry hoof.
covered with blossoms
a business card
floats on the pond
in between
the notes heartbeats
so loud
snatched by the wind,
my check zips past the daffodils —
I almost let it go
the hem of my dress
too wet for the wind
the lie
i almost tell
bruised ginger
Clouds building outside
Heralding a thunderstorm
My cube grows smaller
Hidden by the fog,
mockingbirds and wrens sing maps
outlining the trees.
empty tree —
except
one nest
cherry
blossoms
drifting
down
mission
street
three
pink
hookers
gleam of cattails and a high half moon
haiga
flash of yellow
a butterfly headbutts me
in my work break
an old woman sweeps
the walk of cherry blossoms
children’s laughter
early spring hike—
brushing the winter dust
off her bones
Oasis
We walk under a scorching sun next to the river. He is my guide. Decades younger than me. Yet every time he speaks, I blush. His voice is soft. I barely hear him above the
each
butterfly
carrying
spring
Inspired by the poet Marlene Mountain’s haiku tear outs.
cherry blossoms
I fold my resume
into a crane
The poem received recognition in the 2006 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival haiku contest.
overnight
the leafing returns
to this dying oak
beneath my hand
such desire for spring