Sunday, April 14, 2019



An afternoon alone.  Children at school, husband at work.  The early spring sunshine lights up the woods across from our apartment.  From the fourth floor, looking down and across, the trees appear to be dusted with a pale green fuzz. I don boots and jacket and follow the call to get closer. 

I walk along a stream, the ground squishy with decomposed leaves. Wild primroses yellow, white, pink–small and delicate, barely noticeable in the leaf debris.  Zig-zagging my steps, the squelching mud splashes inside my boots.  The stream, clear and cold, ticks along, changing its voice as it meets rocks and fallen branches. No sounds except the stream, the snap of twigs, the cheep, cheep of an unseen bird.
woodland ramble
neither meditating
nor day dreaming;
just an empty vessel
ready to fill
LYNX winter 2014  

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Sunday, March 31, 2019


In Memory of Joseph
09/04/1932 to 03/31/2018

a fork in the road
how often we hear that phrase
yet, in my life
there was a single path
traveled for years with you

Modern English Tanka

Monday, March 25, 2019

Spring Haiku

jacaranda dusk
a haze of petals
falling with the light

mountain stream
gurgling over rocks . . .
my feet are numb

Haiku Highlights

Monday, March 18, 2019

Sunday, March 10, 2019

Haiga: Comfort Foods

Haigaonline Featured Portfolio

Saturday, March 2, 2019




Hand woven rugs at a craft fair.  The weaver, a Navajo woman.  Her dark skin, barely wrinkled, yet she doesn’t appear too young.  Something about the way she moves, the steady calmness that comes with age and experience.  Her long black hair done in a braid down her back, like a thick rope, reaching below her waist.  With slender hands she weaves skeins of wool into motifs imagined and actual, garnered from ancestral traditions and folk lore.

a saguaro shadow– 

sunset colors stretch
across  desert sands

Contemporary Haibun Online