These are some of the haiku, and other small poems, that I've posted on Facebook and on my blog, since August 2011. I thought I'd share them here for a while.
tomorrow comes
whether or not
I pick up my pen
in another life
these same gold fish
swam with the stars
buttoning
dad’s soft wool shirt
against the night
in this half-light —
the garden troll
as Buddha
not even the bees
visit her garden
now
holding the map
upside down —
the path is revealed
sunset
somewhere a cat
becomes a shadow
reaching for the alarm —
shutting off
the dream
from full moon to new moon
African violet
loses its bloom
in the distance
a white shawl takes flight —
what do seagulls dream about?
in shallow water
a frog shuts his eyes
and disappears
every day
walking around
my own volcano
1000 geese overhead —
2 laughing Buddhas
in the bed
last night
dreaming myself young again
brown hair below my waist
lullaby
sung by my cat or my grandmother?
this sweet dream
younger
today
than yesterday
sweeping yellow leaves
from the front steps
yesterday — today
all night long
trying to get to the other side
of the pillow
miniature zen garden
sand and stone
inside a matchbox — —
where do you go
when you are lost?
beyond the “Keep Out!” sign
Buddha statue
beckons
between ocean
and moon —
no secrets
some pumpkins
can't wait
for Halloween
counting leaves
as they fall
the child runs out of numbers
this morning
on another street
someone else's cat in the window
slicing ginger for tea
we gossip
heat rises
in the meantime
a year passes
her blue shawl unravels
the same mountain
the same moon
not the same poet
bus stop graffiti
“Nothing Lasts Forever”
removed by work crew
how difficult
to hum
silently
end of October —
each falling leaf
enjoys a last laugh
full moon
perched like a pumpkin
on a clock tower
climbing the mountain
carrying the moon
on my back — —
chasing the moon
down the mountain
a lighter backpack
early November
even the sun
wants to sleep in
the last apple falls —
you are not
forgotten
a pot of tea
cooling on the table —
so many clocks to change
in an instant
morning
swallows the moon
full moon
when you feel shy
come hide behind my curtain
you say you sent the moon
to watch over me —
if only you had come yourself
clouds
uncertain
change direction
early morning
walk from room to room
waking wind chimes
over-zealous
with the plants again —
mini waterfall
mid November
the pumpkins are smaller
the mountains are taller
somewhere else
the moon rises —
my pen keeps moving
ants on parade —
on closer look:
a handful of scattered raisins
fly high
dance into the wind
taste the clouds
sunrise —
when it's day, it's day
sunset —
when it's night, it's night
open your hands —
garden dust
flutters toward winter
morning clock
louder than
night clock
wall calendar
two months out of date —
no one notices
I could hold a pencil for a year
and not find
the poem of you
winter doesn't wait for summer —
but I will always wait
for you
shattered —
my favorite mug —
the voices inside my head
a new shade of rain
finds me on a park bench —
Strawberry Fields (forever)
tiny frog leaps
from pad to pad —
Monet's water lilies
waiting — waiting —
waiting —
butterfly lands on my up-turned palm
young men
yoga-bragging in the deli —
"100 downward dogs, dude!"
tomorrow
I'll be a child again
moon-dancing
my memory house —
every window opens to
yesterday
under the same moon
my past
your future
plant zinnias with me —
return to watch
them bloom — —
saying farewell
in every language we know
late december
remembering
the goldfish pond
come with me —
we'll ride the wild wind
into the moon's soft embrace
after the longest night —
exhausted star lies down
in bird's nest
in the dream
because you are always you
when the cat speaks
I understand
white butterflies at the window —
snowy morning —
my nearsightedness
who is this woman
walking inside my shadow —
wintersun morning
re-arranging
the contents —
an empty box
when I touch your cheek
why do I smell
Paris?
between two winters
an old friend
gone
taking a new route home —
stone pagoda
how long have you been here?
inside the abandoned typewriter
a poem
wakes up
grandfather clock
no longer competitive
guesses the hour
old year
new year
the cat sleeps
a deeper red
within my folded hands
where your heart has been
last year's dust
still here
still everywhere
how many years
since we crossed this bridge together?
only my footprints now
begin a journey
upside down —
walking the sky trail
stepping into your snow prints—
the walk home
quickens
following your shadow
across the night bridge —
never catching up
red nail polish —
her hands
so loud
pouring tea
into my favorite cup —
rain fills a river
sandpipers
slowdance around a fire circle —
midwinter ashes
rocking chair
back and forth
until day breaks
untangling a wave
from the ocean —
your deepest sigh
tai chi
beside a frozen waterfall —
young man / seagull
great blue heron
washing dishes
at the kitchen sink — —
what are you doing in Grandma's apron?
what are you doing in my dream?
restless night
only the wind chimes
and me
her collection
of broken combs —
morning rage
ocean
opens her arms
to catch a falling star
listen —
our laughter in this old photograph —
my sister and me
photo album —
my younger self
finally catches up
snowflakes
unwrinkle
me
mother —
the secret cowgirl —
never at home on the range
second floor window —
the plants are gone —
it's been years since you lived there
hungry old moon
not even 1,000 bows
will satisfy you
full moon
stares a hole through rock —
witch-stone
fed up with change —
last year's calendar
still hangs on the kitchen wall
waving to us all —
a child's gray glove
hanging from the lowest branch
here I am —
somewhere between ocean and moon
somewhere between lost and found
my face
in the mirror —
moonglow
all in one bowl
shells from different oceans
sing the same song
turning my gaze
from the weeping moon —
saving face
meteors!
the candle goes out —
we are still asleep
forgive me
for not recognizing you
disguised in an old woman's body
rain puddle —
tipping over
into my own reflection
outside
winter blows —
inside
words fly across the page
waiting all day
for snow
to fill the silence
halfway across winter's bridge
caught by my mother's scent —
lilacs
coaxing music
from a blade of grass
calling the cows home
beside the silo
antique rocking horse
stuck in the mud
hearts
chalked on the sidewalk —
step carefully
a strong wind —
collapsible umbrella
collapses
evening breeze
the neighbor's bamboo
returns my bow
a week later
the red rose
still brooding
early morning stillness —
my thumbs
circle their own wheel
stubborn grapevine
pushing through the bedroom window —
where has the moon gone?
on this cloudy day
even their shadows fight —
3 crows
the two of us
breathing into the silence —
when did the clock stop?
puffed up with pride —
the moon —
inventor of tides
close the window
the Pleiades
envy your strand of pearls
cresting the mountain
moon hesitates
no need to rush things — —
sometimes eternity
feels like an eternity
dear friend
come closer
my flame is going out
all my watches
running slow —
February
unbutton the moon from the sky
wear it on your sleeve
next to your heart
pale and watery
in my bones —
I need red flowers tonight
visiting the old neighborhood —
is that a jukebox
I hear?
far into the night
brushing your long grey hair
time travels backwards
red and yellow apples
in a blue bowl —
still life / still, life
a quiet climb
under
a noisy sky
mountains remember
when they were elephants —
walking trunk-to-tail
dear moon
I forgot to look at you last night —
did you see me?
no more clocks —
midnight is never early
dawn is never late
her last breath —
dragon cloud
eats the sky
tying her laces tightly
so she will not
snap
following the moon
across Kansas —
somehow we get lost
my mother
in the mirror
aging
reading your face —
my finger traces a line
between two age spots
dragonfly
and its reflection —
early morning pond dance
standing at the water's edge
waiting for the stars
and you
outdoor concert
a bee
flies into a trumpet's bell
across the room
my sister
(wrapped in purple silk)
picks up the story
where I leave off
spring!
removing cobwebs
from the picnic basket
I am a cracked teapot
on a dusty shelf —
you've been gone so long
alone on the beach
tracing a love letter
across your body
my muddy feet
know the way
to the goldfish pond
spring morning
a coven of daffodils
up to no good
in the middle
of a plowed field —
the family plot
day after day
the same cafe —
delicious snow peas
flower shop
the owner and her parrot
beak to beak
on the clothesline:
a dozen blue handkerchiefs —
my neighbor's prayer flags
asleep
in her own shadow —
black cat
I pour the tea
you butter the toast —
our waitress thinks we are sisters
snowy night
a lonely rooster
snuggles against the chimney pot
half-past three
the poet's cat
snores in iambic pentameter
you, with your fiery wings
how many moons
can you juggle?
twilight
unweaving spring flowers
from your long black braid
no ripples
no breath
this moment bows to the sea
needing a nap
settling for
a slow blink
almost Easter —
neighbor's Halloween porch
even scarier now
catching spring rain
in my cupped hands —
no reflection in this shallow pool
