Monday, June 29, 2015


                                                     spring dawn
                                                     with the returning geese
                                                     my mind takes flight

                                                     yellow broom gone wild
                                                     the freedom to write
                                                     as I please
                                                     moonless sky–
                                                     the deep night speaks
                                                     with many voices
Shiku Kukai, April 2015
Acorn, summer 2015
Presence, winter 2015

Tuesday, June 23, 2015


                                                   INNISFREE GARDEN   

We went back to Innisfree today. One hundred fifty acres surrounding a lake, sectioned into "cup gardens". We begin on the path which circles the lake, but frequently meander up soft grassy slopes or stone steps, pausing at each vignette. We step over trickling water or cross on a narrow wooden bridge, get sprayed by mist from a water spout, listen to the gurgle as water splays down rocks and into a basin.

Butterflies, bumblebees, dragon flies, humming birds seek out the nectar on Joe Pye weed, black eyed Susans, goldenrod, and other flowers secreted in between rocks. Tall grasses bend, swishing lightly, along the lake. Rock plinths and mounds create shadows and shape my imagination. Lotus and water lilies color one end of the lake.

                                                small ripples
                                                from a dragonfly
                                                a pause to rest

                                                air bubbles
                                                breaking through the lake's surface
                                                all that lies hidden

A heron poised on a lily pad maintains its position long after I take its picture. Ferns fill the bogs.  We cross a bridge spanning a channel in the lake and continue on the path, now bulging with tree roots.

                                                uphill walk
                                                the rough path eases
                                                into the promised view

                                                sultry heat
                                                cooling reflections
                                                in the lake

World Haiku Review, June 2015 

Friday, June 12, 2015


                                                       the old town
                                                    even now the rough stones
                                                    soak up the warmth
                                                    early morning walk
                                                    reaching through the mist
                                                    for wild berries

                                                    a walk to the beach
                                                    the asphalt road changes
                                                    to sand 

World Haiku Review, Aug. 2005
Simply Haiku, Aug. 2006
Solares Hill, May 2005

Friday, June 5, 2015


                                              A TASTE  OF HONEY

You expect to find that your childhood home is older.  You also find it smaller.  Duller.  The neighborhood is confined, insulated, a world unto itself.  You wouldn’t fit in even if it were ship-shape and clean of graffiti and rusting cars.  Even if there were neat plantings in front of each house and window boxes with flowers and children playing hop-scotch or roller skating on the sidewalks.  Even if the older folks sat on their front porches on a summer night and gossiped. You know it would not be your home anymore. 

                                                   the taste of honey
                                                   into nothing
Bottle Rockets, Winter 2014