Wednesday, August 12, 2020


coming through open windows
wafting on a breeze
possibilities surface
in this time of waiting


Sunday, August 2, 2020


On Being Wise  

At my age I should know a few things. I do, but not enough to always be wise or to be certain. There are still choices to be made, pros and cons to be weighed, adjustment to and acceptance of whichever choice is made. Life is still a learning process.

                                                     heirloom roses
                                                     bringing back the bush
                                                     one bloom at a time


Friday, July 24, 2020

Tuesday, July 14, 2020



The wind picks up. We sit closer, wrap a blanket across our shoulders. Enough hot coffee in the thermos for a half cup each. His hand finds mine. I keep my eyes looking ahead to the horizon where ocean meets sky. Pink, rose, mauve, peach. Mustn't blink or turn away. Mustn't look into his eyes; I'll miss the sunset. I'll miss what we came for. Mustn't…

slow to star shine
sloshing waves bring the tide
and a warning
Contemporary Haibun Online

Monday, July 6, 2020


I was young
hesitant to leave home
until you came
I grew into certainty
and the boldness of love
Tanka Origens

Monday, June 29, 2020


My deck is my transport. It awaits my boarding, weather permitting. Comfortable seating, in sun or shade, my choice. Snacks or full meals can be provided. Reading material is always provided, as well as pen and paper should I choose to read or write. Should I wish, I may watch the screen before me, the cranberry red Japanese maple trees and dark green, pink flowering bushes behind them, the containers of potted plants with their ochre, white and salmon colored blossoms. This show is accompanied by stereophonic sound. Various bird calls, soughing breezes, rustling leaves, gurgling water from the brook just beyond the trees encircle me, wrapping me in warm, comforting arms, and I am airborne to the destination of my choice.

The blue Aegean and white sands of Naxos, the slopes at Chamonix, a glaring white under the winter sun, the strong odors and raucous calls of vendors in the Grand Suk in Dubai, the plaintive Fado coming from a lone singer in an alley. Visions of memories and new, imaginative ones. I am in control. I am the pilot for this journey.

a summer day
at a yard sale
the years in review

a passing parade
now and then a memory
falls out of step

Heritage Hills Newsletter, July 2020

Tuesday, June 23, 2020