Haibun

RESPITE 

            An ant is crisscrossing an area of the patio.  It navigates the bricks without falling between the cracks.  Slow, but continuously moving, covering the same area of about four feet square.  Twenty minutes zigzagging twice across and back to where it began.  I turn away and loose sight of it.  Did it move on to another part of the patio having given up on finding food?  Or did it fall in a crack and can't get out?  Such persistence and determination for no apparent gain.

                                                            the spring evening

                                                                 comes slowly to a close—

                                                                      bird songs fading

Frogpond, autumn 2005

Haiku

line-dried clothes-
a spring morning
still in the folds

we speak softly
in the thick spring fog
all edges blurred

an old dogwood-
the flowering limbs cast
a crooked shadow

An Unknown Road, 2008

Tanka

it was her month
this May of blossoms
and fragrances:
the softness of these days
was in her voice and smile

Ribbons, September 2007

Haiku

between morning chores
I open the door-
lilacs in the rain

morning walk to where lilacs bloom

the neighbor's lilacs-
gathering the fragrance
to myself

Gean,, autumn 2009
Simply Haiku, autumn 2009
Ambrosia, August 2010