Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Haibun


LIGHTHOUSE POINT

On the way to Cape Cod we stop in New Haven, city of my birth.  The refurbished carousel at Lighthouse Point is the attraction. A mostly cloudy morning, only groups of children from day camps on the beach. Each sports its own distinctive tee shirt. No one in the water.  At low tide, the gray glassy sea spreads out flat in the distance. The pavilion housing the carousel is open, but empty.  The horses look as fresh as I remember them.  Shiny black or white, dappled grays, rich mahogany. Guilt edged benches, gleaming brass poles.  All the glitter of my youth restored.

A young woman sells me a ticket. "You have to wait for that group of campers."  She points to a bunched mass of six and seven year olds squirming in a ragged line. We take a walk away from the campers and the carousel. Unlike the pavilion, the park and other structures are worn out. Scrub grass and blown beach sand. Chipped paint and graffiti. 

                                                the lighthouse–
                                                after fifty years, smaller
                                                than memories

Back at the pavilion. "Come on," says the young woman. "That group will take all day to get organized." She turns on the carousel lights and the calliope.  By the Sea, In the Good Old Summertime, On a Bicycle Built for Two.Old songs from the pumping calliope, old even when I was a child.

                                                a lone rider
                                                on the merry-go-round–
                                                here and there a ghost

Contemporary Haibun On-line, spring 2006

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Haiga


                                                             twilight stroll
                                                             my fingers perfumed
                                                             with sage

                                                             half asleep
                                                             wrapped in the morning coolness
                                                             humming cicadas

                                                             yellow butterfly
                                                             in the heart of a lily
                                                             the taste of new wine

Presence
Taj Mahal Review
Daily Haiku

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Haiga







Haigaonline

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Haiga



Daily Haiga

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Haiku for Summer



                                                                  fingers of the sea
                                                                  rushing through marsh grass
                                                                  the sinking path


                                                                  windows open
                                                                  the sound of summer
                                                                  in all the rooms

                                                                  early morning walk
                                                                  grass clippings turn old sneakers
                                                                  a new shade


Presence
Heron's Nest
Cloud Peak

Saturday, June 2, 2018

Haiku for Spring





iris garden
the sisters pose
in purple dresses

 

copper chimes
between wind gusts
the sudden quiet



woodland phlox
filling the spaces
between trees

Daily Haiku
Stardust
Daily Haiku


Friday, May 25, 2018

Haibun



                                                  A  PICTURE POSTCARD


A green and gold landscape.  New wheat and rape fields set out in connecting squares.  Black and white cows spotting open pastures.  Lichened stone walls; solid rough wood barns and farm houses.  Flower fresh window boxes trailing summer against dun colored walls.

                                                           a mountain village
                                                           resting above the fog line– 
                                                           the quickness of change 
Bottle Rockets