Monday, December 28, 2009

Saturday, December 19, 2009

afternoon snow
a rustle of newspaper
from the easy chair

Gean, #3 December 2009
Posted by Picasa

Monday, December 7, 2009

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Monday, November 16, 2009

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

double espresso
fighting with the wine
for the upper hand

Moonset October 2009
editor's choice for featured senryu

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Monday, October 12, 2009

Autumn Ritual

It's apple picking time. On a weekday morning we drive north, passing through quiet small towns. Kids are in school, and their parents at work. Ours is the only car on the road. Between the towns are woods and fields, not yet sold to a developer.

following our noses
to the apple orchard–
fresh cider at the mill

We take a half-bushel basket at the stand and trek up a hill picking and tasting as we go.

the bargain apples
hiding on the ground
under poison ivy

On top of the hill, a picnic.

after lunch,
watching the yellow jackets
lazy in the sun
Stylus Poetry Journal, November 2002

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Monday, September 28, 2009

autumn twilight
clouds glowing orange
behind dark pines

Saturday, September 5, 2009

decayed leaves
on the forest floor
new ferns
Ambrosia , July 2009

a wetland trail
we follow the whisper
of marsh grasses
Ambrosia, July 2009

late evening-
the shadows unite
into full darkness
Stylus Poetry Journal, July 2009

Monday, August 24, 2009


at the lawn concert
lighting one spot at at time-
Fireflies Anthology, Bottle Rockets Press, Summer 2007

cricket in the house-
if only we shared
the same bedtime
Stylus Poetry Journal, January 2003

a cool summer rain
impatiens perk up
before I do
Outlaw Poets, June 2004

Monday, August 10, 2009


Families on their front porches. Grandma with a paper fan. Grandpa and Dad with cold beers. Mom with hot coffee, regardless of the heat. My sister and I–cream soda, out of the bottle. Wet and slippery in our grimy hands. Sweet and bubbly and cool. One gulp. Then another. Then settling into a slow sipping, making it last until bedtime.

circling moths
under a street lamp
the last game of jacks

Bottle Rockets, Summer 2009

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Summer Haibun


Two weeks of rain. The smell of dampness in our clothes, in the linen closet, in the upholstery. A monotonous beat to the rain.
Dull plops on the roof and higher pitched bleeps on the metal drain pipes and gutters. Trees bent over with the added moisture. One branch of the maple, cracked and hanging by its sap. Garden flowers dragging in the mud. The sour odor of wet and rotting vegetation permeates the air.

nowhere to go–
the damp rooms echo
my restlessness

Contemporary Haibun On-line, October 2007


Murky sky, dead air, pizza oven temperature. Perspiration collects on my skin, pooling in crevices. The day stops even before it begins.

curtains stir–
a small breeze lost
at the window

Bottle Rockets, August, 2008

Friday, July 17, 2009



the farmers' market-
most dirt clings
to salad greens

The Country and Abroad, September 2007

spattering rain...
in the woods ten minutes
and still not wet

Dragonfly, April 1974

sun on my back-
all the flower pots
arranged just so

Heron's Nest, June 2005

Monday, July 6, 2009

on a rock wall
waiting for the tide
to give back the beach

3 Lights Gallery, April 2008
photo by Joseph F. Shaw

Thursday, June 25, 2009


a young deer
moving across the lawn
with an easy gait

Up here in the country the deer are plentiful. They are seen at the edge of woods, along the roads, in meadows and on lawns. Being new to the area I enjoy watching them, but am annoyed that they eat my plants.

I am willing to share my land and live side-by-side. A peaceful co-existence. Theirs and mine. To that end, I give them the wooded ravine behind our house. There they can eat until they are satisfied, mate, have babies, live a good life and die of old age.

deer spray in hand–
the promise of lilies
swaying in the breeze

Contemporary Haibun On-line, October 2007

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

ticking off the miles-
the wipers keep time
through rain and fog

steady rain-
turning the limp pages
of a book
Taj Mahal Review, June 2009

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


too late for fireflies-
on a dark country lane
the walking is slow

the crest of each wave-
a bright shimmer
before the crash

rising tide-
the sea spray swallowed
by fog

rotted tree stump-
assorted weeds
deeply rooted

Taj Mahal Review, June 2009

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


newly green meadow
filled with rain

Stylus, July 2007
An Unknown Road, 2008

spring flowers-
one by one a bouquet
forms itself

Shamrock, September 2007
An Unknown Road, 2008

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


afternoon mending-
a breeze through the window
stirs a reverie;
what guiding spirit led me
to this comfort zone?
Simply Haiku, Feb. 2008

morning bird calls-
I rise with expectation
of your smile
together we plan a day
of no plans
Ribbons, Sept. 2005

Monday, May 11, 2009


Infused in the morning dampness the romance of lilacs and climbing roses. Lazy afternoons under willows sipping love poetry and wine. Tales of chivalrous knights and their ladies conjured in the breeze.

mundane chores
with cinnamon tea

mini words, 2008 writing competition
commended haibun

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Three Senryu

the clam dig;
three cracked shells,
ten broken nails

heated discussion-
two young men pause
for girl watching

teenage couple-
the crisscross flutter
of hormones
3 Lights Gallery, March 2009

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Bennett College, Millbrook, NY

Halcyon Hall

the rotting college-
spring breezes rustle
old memories

fallen debris
where students once played
thorny weeds

broken windows-
through black holes
a devouring wind
The Millbrook Independent, March 13, 2009

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


April sunset-
the orange cat
visits again

Modern Haiku, Autumn 2008

cherry blossoms
on the half-dead tree
the pull of sunshine

Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival,
Honorable Mention, April 2009

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Haiku for March

high winds-
following the traffic light
on its swing

spring clean-up-
last year's grasses
arranged in a vase

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

End of Winter Haiku

the first robin-
a dull day of chores
suddenly brighter
Stylus Poetry Journal, Sept. 2006

the snow nearly gone-
a white horse grazes
in a muddy field
Ambrosia, Jan. 2009

snow melting-
a slow walk
in slippery slush
Paper Frog, Feb. 2004

Monday, February 16, 2009


The Harlem Valley Rail Line, opened in 1852, running 127 miles north from New York City to Chatham. Now, the last 50 miles is a hiking trail. My husband and I begin our walk in Millerton, a village at the southern end of the trail.

An embankment on either side, ten, twelve feet high, layers of stratified rock pressed one on the other, jagged edges, smooth flat surfaces, glistening with the run-off from melting snow. Clumps of moss cling to them, filling in the spaces like green mortar. On both sides clear water gurgling… puddling at the base. In the shaded sections, ice still on the path.

I imagine a train rolling through, steam engine chugging, smoke stack spewing black smoke, whistle blowing, kids waving from the tops of the embankments. At the stations along the line, loading docks busy with commerce from the nearby mills and farms, keeping the City fed. Local folks going from town to town to shop, visit, attend school. Weekenders up from the City to hunt, hike and dine at the hotels built just for the leisure trade.

lengthening shadows
pursued by the cold
we hurry our steps

Stylus Poetry Journal, July 2007

Thursday, February 5, 2009


a flock of crows
gathering in the meadow-
their raucous caws
the voice of the valley

Moonset, Oct. 2008

this day's routine
so like that of yesterday
and the day before;
no change do I make
except to move more slowly

The Country and Abroad, Sept. 2007

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

for Jan. 28, 2009, 48 years married

the first meeting
in a room filled with chatter
there is but one sound;
your voice alone reaches my ear
long after we say goodnight

World Haiku Review, Dec. 2004

Sunday, January 18, 2009


across the yard
tree shadows jumping
under a cold moon

Hokkku Web Page, March 2004

no appointments
the winter afternoon
fades into dusk

Stylus, October 2006

Saturday, January 3, 2009


the January cold-
a pile of walnut shells
found in the attic

South by Southeast, Jan. 2005

holiday season-
old recipes and traditions
kept alive;
memories to show the young
what love is

Ribbons, "Tanka Cafe," Spring 2006