with so many

beckon

advent begins

I send you on

they’ve gone 

released to fly

and migrate beyond me 

my words on tiny paper wings

find home

haiku 11/21/09

haiku 11/21/09

haiku 11/21/09

haiku 11/21/09

I saw a parent forget today

a child

he is his own

instead, you want  to grow

him into what you would want him

to be

vessel

goddess

taking a seed

softly folding within

the sacred creative breathes a

new life

haiku

sacred cherry trees

the guard

plucks me a bloom

gypsy bargain

glass sphere

look deep within

what fortunes, loves or pains

all for only one piece of heart

shatter

sea widow

walking

ocean trinkets

festooned to her skirt hems

she wanders with the tides

waiting for the one lost to her

always

haiku 11/14/09

reincarnation

the best I can hope for

worm food

what can be said

could you

think well of her

adandoning her child

after all, motherhood is hard

cowbird

eastern rays

taking advantage

light reveals

dusty corners missed

from a haitian mother’s cookbook

mixing

little she has

together with her tears

and dirt from this indifferent world

mud cakes

I will measure time

One day,

I will measure time

by the wanderers

in my garden,

year after year.

 

The seasons will be known to me

only as,

 

velvet twilight snowbirds

bright dawn sparrows

swift warmth hummingbirds

and dusky faded goldfinches.

 

Each arrives and departs

in turn,

telling me all I need to know

to count my days.

fearless

When I was a kid,

I could tear through the meadow 

        never worrying about 

        stepping in snake holes 

                or cow patties

I could swing on the barn rope

        from hayloft to hayloft then

        lie in the sweetness thinking 

                I was alone  

I could hide in the darkest

        corners of the chicken coop 

        even when my brother gave

                up the seeking

I could fly down the dirt road 

        on my banana seat bike 

        hitting the S-curve below 

                with precision

Now, 

               as I cringe 

at the black-leggy thing 

                        in the bathtub 

a wad of toilet paper in my hand 

                                I miss my fearlessness

becoming

I fear

        I may become

accustomed

to distant traffic hum

        that I may forget

the roll

of the fog

        down the sides of the mountains

I fear

        I may soon find

more comfort

in lights of the strip malls

        that I may block out

the sight

of the stars

        riding in their own courses

I fear

        I may be more

dazzled by

the rain-soaked wet pavement

        that I may lose such

blindness

of the sun

        striking on the lake waters

I hope

        I will notice

the beauty

of myself falling in

        that I will become

a part

of the earth’s

        soul