Tuesday, April 13, 2021


                                                 rush hour traffic
                                                 slowing down
                                                 for daffodils

                                     the morning sun
                                                warming my back and spirits
                                                waves from walking friends
                                                at a six-foot distance,
                                                from daffodils up close


Monday, April 5, 2021

Haiku sequence

and the rains came

spring rain

the pond rises

to meet the willows

the blurred shades

of a watercolor garden

rain-streaked window


splashing down the grassy bank

purple crocus

opening windows

the first rays of sunshine

after a hard rain

more rain

April ends

with a new pond

Heritage Hills News

Sunday, March 28, 2021



koto music

to relax, ease my spirit

to give me wings

homing me to a place

of tranquil memories


My date promises a special dinner, an adventure in eating.  He heads west towards Hollywood, towards the Sunset strip. I think Musso and Frank’s Grill, Chasen’s, Scandia. He is mum.  


He turns right and winds his way up, ending at a rough parking lot below a large, one-storied wooden structure in the style of a Japanese house with low hanging eaves. The grounds are overgrown and appear to have been neglected for years. My date tells me this once was a hotel with bungalows hidden in the shrubbery and trees, a trysting place for those seeking anonymity. 


We walk up a gravel path after examining the alternative, a rickety wooden staircase. At the top, we cross a moon bridge over a koi pond which extends under the building into an inner courtyard and are met by a woman wearing a deep blue kimono splashed with cherry blossoms and white cranes. She asks if we want “inside dining in Japanese manner with view of koi pond or outside in Western manner with view of city.” Only then do I notice what’s behind me.


purple and gold sky

marking the onset

of a twinkling dusk

as the city prepares

for darkness


My date has reserved seating inside, and we are led along a wooden veranda, passing rooms, some open, some closed with a heavy paper screen, to our private room. Our hostess slides the screen open. 


“Please to remove shoes,” she says. We do as she does and enter an exquisitely, flawless, sparsely decorated room with a low table in the center, square pillows for sitting, tatami mats on the floor, and a slightly raised alcove against the far wall with a blue and white vase holding a single bird of paradise. To the right of the alcove is another sliding screen from which our servers enter and exit. They come bearing hot cloths for cleansing our hands, cups, bowls, chop sticks, and a hibachi. While our chef prepares the meal, we sip hot sake and listen to the strings of a koto that someone is playing by the koi pond. My eyes flit from watching the chef to my date. 


how does love begin?

a word, a look given

a meal shared?

the way to a heart

has many paths

Adelaide Literary Magazine 

 Sept. 2020

Sunday, March 21, 2021



the morning sun
warming my back and spirits
waves from walking friends
at a six-foot distance,
from daffodils, up close

Friday, March 12, 2021


                                                the slow slide
                                                of water on a leaf—
                                                the blink of an eye


Tuesday, March 2, 2021


 Black and White Haiga

Sunday, February 21, 2021


 snow in the night
I check his breathing
one more time

Red Moon Anthology