Tanka

afternoon mending-
a breeze through the window
stirs a reverie;
what guiding spirit led me
to this comfort zone?
Simply Haiku, Feb. 2008


morning bird calls-
I rise with expectation
of your smile
together we plan a day
of no plans
Ribbons, Sept. 2005

SPRING TALES

Infused in the morning dampness the romance of lilacs and climbing roses. Lazy afternoons under willows sipping love poetry and wine. Tales of chivalrous knights and their ladies conjured in the breeze.

mundane chores
spiced
with cinnamon tea

mini words, 2008 writing competition
commended haibun

Three Senryu

the clam dig;
three cracked shells,
ten broken nails

heated discussion-
two young men pause
for girl watching

teenage couple-
the crisscross flutter
of hormones
3 Lights Gallery, March 2009

Bennett College, Millbrook, NY

Halcyon Hall

the rotting college-
spring breezes rustle
old memories

fallen debris
where students once played
thorny weeds

broken windows-
through black holes
a devouring wind
The Millbrook Independent, March 13, 2009

HAIKU FOR APRIL

April sunset-
the orange cat
visits again

Modern Haiku, Autumn 2008

cherry blossoms
on the half-dead tree
the pull of sunshine

Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival,
Honorable Mention, April 2009

Haiku for March

high winds-
following the traffic light
on its swing

spring clean-up-
last year's grasses
arranged in a vase

End of Winter Haiku

the first robin-
a dull day of chores
suddenly brighter
Stylus Poetry Journal, Sept. 2006

the snow nearly gone-
a white horse grazes
in a muddy field
Ambrosia, Jan. 2009

snow melting-
a slow walk
in slippery slush
Paper Frog, Feb. 2004

THE SWISH OF TIME

The Harlem Valley Rail Line, opened in 1852, running 127 miles north from New York City to Chatham. Now, the last 50 miles is a hiking trail. My husband and I begin our walk in Millerton, a village at the southern end of the trail.

An embankment on either side, ten, twelve feet high, layers of stratified rock pressed one on the other, jagged edges, smooth flat surfaces, glistening with the run-off from melting snow. Clumps of moss cling to them, filling in the spaces like green mortar. On both sides clear water gurgling… puddling at the base. In the shaded sections, ice still on the path.

I imagine a train rolling through, steam engine chugging, smoke stack spewing black smoke, whistle blowing, kids waving from the tops of the embankments. At the stations along the line, loading docks busy with commerce from the nearby mills and farms, keeping the City fed. Local folks going from town to town to shop, visit, attend school. Weekenders up from the City to hunt, hike and dine at the hotels built just for the leisure trade.


lengthening shadows
pursued by the cold
we hurry our steps

Stylus Poetry Journal, July 2007