Haiku

                                                     
                                                                                ice floes
                                                                                stop and go traffic
                                                                                on the river road


                                                                               frigid temps
                                                                               the radiator's soft ping
                                                                               in the night


                                                                               spring thaw
                                                                               that dirt road
                                                                               going nowhere still


Living Haiku Anthology
March 2017

Tanka Sequence

                                                               TIME PASSING    

                                                                   longer nights

                                                                   he slips into his last sleep

                                                                   quietly

                                                                   the release he waited for

                                                                   is not his alone

                                                                   Dutch homestead

                                                                   a rusted water pump

                                                                   the handle half-way;

                                                                   so many stories forgotten

                                                                   so many never finished

                                                                    double-Dutch jump rope

                                                                    the sureness and speed

                                                                    of the girls’ steps;                                                             

                                                                    how unalike I am

                                                                    with my hesitant moves

                                                                     sometimes I see you

                                                                     when you are young with dark hair

                                                                     moving easily

                                                                     your shoulders straight, your face smooth

                                                                     before I know of time passing

                                                                      I saw you last night

                                                                      felt your presence

                                                                      heard your voice

                                                                      and know you will come again

                                                                      when I least expect it

Ribbons, March 2013



Haibun

 

  BLOOD ORANGES

 

A rarity, blood oranges at the market.  I buy several and remember her delight when she found them again decades after leaving her home in the Sicilian hills.  The mottled red orange skin, the reddish flesh, juicy and sweet.

 

I add goat cheese to my cart and remember her stories about buying cheese and milk from the goat boy every morning.

 

I remember her dark eyes and warm smile and her deft way with a cooking spoon.

 

I arrange the red orange segments, spiraling them on a plate, toss a few cubes of goat cheese here and there, squeeze on some of the red juice, sprinkle with olive oil, salt and a generous shake of freshly ground black pepper.

 

                                                                  lunch under the pines

                                                                  the breeze stirs up a fragrance

                                                                  from afar

Contemporary Haibun Online

June 2009