Haiga

Christmas haiku

tree trimming
we listen to the music
of soft rain

Feast of Santa Lucia

it was her day
the Feast of Santa Lucia;
she, too, had a gift
of lighting up lives
by just being herself

in memory of Lucia on her
feast day, December 13

Late Autumn Haiku

shadow mountains
along the lake
the mist rising

Taj Mahal Review, December 2008

space between trees–
the rhythm of two hawks
wheeling

Daily Haiku, cycle 8

tea with lemon–
slipping under the door
a cold draft

Ambrosia, #1 fall 2009

haiga

Haiga

Dublin Castle
Dublin, Ireland

Haiga

Inis Mor,
Ireland

Haiga

Haiga

Gean, September 2010

Halloween

farm stand
Jack O'lanterns and pies
waiting in line
















Darkness. A soft rustling in the trees. Wood smoke carried by the wind. The scurrying chase of dried leaves.

A door slams. A shout, followed by another. Footsteps starting slowly, then moving faster. More shouts and a stream of light across the cold sidewalk. Gone in a minute. The footsteps continue, getting louder and more frenzied. Running now. Squeals and screams. Another flash of light. Pounding feet coming from all directions.

a chilly dampness
seeping into the bags and bones
of Trick or Treaters

Contemporary Haibun On-Line, October, 2005

Haiga

Dublin, Ireland

Ireland

Ireland

Kilmainham Gaol
Dublin, Ireland

stone prison cell
thin sunlight creates a shadow
of iron bars

limestone walls
dampness seeping into bones
and spirit

Haiga

Haiku Reality, July 2010

September Haiku

hurricane forecast–
from all directions
blue sky

chrysanthemum buds
a peek of magenta
on the tips

Russian sage
bees and butterflies…
butterflies and bees

Plant Sale

Plant Sale


On a cloudy, damp morning in May, a plant sale at the Institute of Ecosystem Studies. A full parking lot already at 10:00 a.m..

We walk through the rows admiring the different varieties of plants, reading labels, wishing we knew what we were doing. Familiar and unfamiliar names–spiraea, buxos, hosta, buddleia, euonymus. What we don't recognize outnumbers what we do.

Advice is welcome from a master gardener on the staff. We settle on hybrid daylilies in pale yellow.

rain chill–
a stop at the diner
for waffles

The Country and Abroad, August 2007

Trees

TREES

We live on top of a hill with trees all around–in a ravine behind the house and in thick rows on the edges of the property. Dogwood, maple, locust, apple, oak, ash, birch, several variety of pine, and others I can’t name..

They speak to me all day, every day, in voices soft and sibilant, slurred and shushing, fierce and bold. They whisper, they crash and bang. They can snap and crack when covered with ice; they can sing lullabies when in full leaf.

the summer night
in the breeze stories told
before I sleep

frogpond, autumn 2009

Haiga

Gean, March 2010

Haiga

Gean, June 2010

deer in the garden
unhurried in their walk
to the wooded ravine;
in this life I share
many paths with strangers

Red Lights, June 2010

Haiga

REGULARS

At the local Starbucks we meet. The same customers, not every visit, but often. A smile, a wave. “Hello. Hot enough for you? Cold enough?” Small chit-chat. “Live nearby? Have a nice holiday? See you next time.” Ed, Susan, Jim. First names only. Neither friends nor acquaintances, even. Yet…a contact, a welcome, a recognition, a belonging.

unknown wildflowers
blending
into a bouquet

Contemporary Haibun On-line, July 2010

Haiga

Haiga

Daily Haiga, June 13, 2010--

Spring

HAIKU FOR SPRING

new green shoots-
the afternoon sun
warming my muse

more rain
ducks explore a new pond
of connecting puddles

church graveyard-
wild violets growing
between stones

a dandelion
growing between bricks-
the quiet dusk

Modern Haiku, Autumn 2009
Hoi Polloi, Winter 2009
Hoi Polloi, Winter 2009
Lyrical Poetry, December 2003

Haiga

Haiga

Gean, March 2010

Haiga

Birthday Memories

In memory of Lucy Porrazzo Combattente
May 9, 1904 - November 30,

Soft sunshine. Soft breezes. A day in May. Scented with new grass and fresh blooms. Filled with bird song. The month of her birthday. Lucy. Lucia. Latin in origin, meaning light. Named after a saint.

early morning sun
the stray cat with yellow eyes
waits for her

Moonset, October 2009

42 DAGGETT STREET

It was where I lived for my first 16 years, the upstairs flat in a two family house in an Italian neighborhood. I can still hear my grandfather shouting from the first floor as I went up the back stairs.

“Chiuda la porta.”

“Chiuda la luce”

A noisy street and smelly with a Goodyear rubber plant on one corner and a cheese processing plant directly across from our house. Yet, a lively and cheerful street with small front gardens and friendly neighbors.

Today, the factories are long closed and empty, along with several of the houses, including ours. The porch roof is gone, the rails sagging. Windows boarded up, concrete where once were hydrangeas, the paint peeling down to bare wood.

It is mid-summer. The air heavy and quiet in this semi-abandoned neighborhood. I return to the car.

sudden shouts–
a man and a woman
their words unclear;
the sidewalk empty
but for shifting litter

Modern Haibun & Tanka Prose, Issue 2, Winter 2009

Haiga

Hector

In memory of Hector Combattente
April 17, 1989 - October 27, 1995

why am I still here?
the old man asks again;
for us, we answer,
to know that the world revolves
and that spring has come again

Haiga

Heron's Nest, June 2008

March

last days of March
promises made long ago
holding true

Haiga

a wish to hurry
spring's arrival
a contradiction
I cannot explain
when I want to slow time

Modern English Tanka, July 2009

pear trees blooming
in all directions
one white petal
nestled in my hand
fragile as hope

Everyday Musings, July 2009

March wind
bare trees shaking
in a puddle

Magnapoets, spring/summer anthology
2009

Haiga