Thursday, April 27, 2017



An old colonial house. Ours. Cleaned, painted, polished, scrubbed and repaired.  An object on display, a star on stage, ready for the public.  Ready to be someone else's home.

We wait, out of sight and out of hearing.  What do they think, these lookers, these pokers and prodders? Will someone see its charm as we did 29 years ago?  An old lady with a few idiosyncrasies. The sloping hallway, the creak in the dining room floor, the  leak above the side door when there is a drenching rain? Will the new family be forgiving and adjust to the old lady's habits and manners?  Another sweater when winds blow through loose windows, a pot under the leak.  This old lady has so much else to offer.

From a bedroom window, rolling fairways and fastidious greens on the golf course.  Lilacs and roses on warm breezes; the maple, a canopy of gold in autumn and the envy of Midas; the transformation of the land with fresh snow.  Birds, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, chipmunks, possums.  Residents and visitors, including the occasional deer and wild turkey.

 The walls will soon hear new stories and absorb new memories.  Will they echo with happy celebrations, crowded with children, grandchildren and friends? And, when it is time for the owners to move on, will they look back, as I am, and wonder what has happened to the years?

                                                          this morning the sun
                                                          glowing in the east-
                                                          later… the west

Haibun Today, April 18, 2008

Saturday, April 22, 2017


river walk
the scent of lilacs
and fresh tar

our new home
neglected in and out
but for white lilacs

Kernels, summer 2013
3 Lights Gallery, Oct. 2008

Monday, April 17, 2017



                                                                 DINNER WITH THE FAMILY

He is 16.  Long hair and a pierced ear.  Baggy jeans and extra large tee shirt.  He is with his parents and grandparents.  They talk to each other, but not to him.  He sits apart and says nothing.  He is 16.

                                                                  darkness falls
                                                                  in the dense woods
                                                                  all that’s hidden

Contemporary Haibun On-Line,
Sept. 2009

Thursday, April 6, 2017


A Hundred Gourds