Thursday, September 26, 2013


                                                    on a hill
Posted by Picasa                                               autumn leaves vibrate
                                                    in the sun;
                                                    so much to absorb
                                                    on any single day

                                                    fall outing–
                                                    the choices to make
                                                    gathering leaves
                                                    I try to pick the ones
                                                    that will last

Ribbons, autumn 2009; Never Endig Story
Multiverses, 2012

Wednesday, September 18, 2013


                                  morning mist
                                  the tick...tick
                                  of leaves falling

                                  morning sharpness
                                  rain soaked leaves
                                  sticking where they fall

                                  turning the corner
                                  crimson maple trees
                                  dripping rain

Heron's Nest, Oct. 2002
Daily Haiku, Oct. 30, 2009
Dragonfly, Jan 1974
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Wednesday, September 11, 2013


Daily Haiga, July 16, 2013
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Thursday, September 5, 2013


                                       THE ZEN OF BRAIDING 

My hair has grown long enough to form a single braid extending down my back.  A braid I cannot make satisfactorily.  The finished product swings to the right or to the left.  I feel unbalanced, lopsided. 

“Don’t talk.” My husband, standing behind me, gathers my hair in his hands.  His expression seen in the mirror is neutral, as if his thoughts are elsewhere.

Divide the hair into three equal shanks.  Right shank over the center.  Pull taught.  Left shank over the center.  Pull taught.  Repeat to the end. Secure with a rubber band.

He steps back and admires his work.  I turn around and look with a hand mirror.  I, too, admire his work.  Neat, tight and centered.

“The secret,” he says, is not to think about it.  To have a blank mind.”

spring dusk
pulling in the silence
of a white lily

Frogpond, summer 2011

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Sunday, September 1, 2013


                                               INSECT HAIKU

                                               mosquito landing–
                                               the light touch on my hand
                                               before it bites

                                               summer reading
                                               the dot of an i
                                               moves down the page
                                               humid night
                                               insects and I

                                              jumping contest–
                                              a grasshopper lands
                                              on my shoulder

Daily Haiku cycle 8, 2010;Hijinx,8/2010;
Gean, autumn 2009; World Haiku Review, 3/2009
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