haiku

A flower I hadnestled with many otherstossed into her grave.

two birds on a fencechirping at the little oneHopping, spot to spot

Sob on my shoulderthat you will always miss herNever enough time.

My dog has my heart.She runs circles around itsniffing in the yard.

Watering can poursThey skitter out of the wayof the flood that's life

Google says trafficA slow-down approaching fast.All day yesterday

Leash is in my handShe slides deep into a stretchBefore we go out.

The flip of a pageSketchbook full of finished workBold colors and lines

sick after drinkinggrab a book to fall asleepagain and forget

The dog is up nowlicking my hidden faceunder the covers

It is a hot dayAnd Matt's first at his new jobLet's order take-out

Tomorrow he's offMy boss, last day with his kidsThe end of summer

Together we sitLunchtime, talk about moviesMonday, bocce ball

This triangle isa signification ofa baby in here

One hundred degreesAnd the sweat keeps dripping downmy skirt-wearing thighs

Days are getting shortWalks with Clover may be rushedSo we don't get scared

Squeeze of a shoulderClover has woken him upon a Saturday.

Using each brushstroketo capture an essentialspirit of the thing

I know I can't flyBeing rooted to the groundis okay with you

The sign near my homeused to have someone else's nameThis house was his too

The sun pours on mein summer like winter rainwithout any care

The cracks extend downso far I question my sightbelow this dry earth

Should I hope or notDrown in the cynicismor work twice as hard?

Under the oak treeChickory blossoms unfoldcurl up in the sun

A foggy morningI get up before the dogcoffee and a book

He does the dishesWhile I am laying in bedwaiting to kiss him

We could be like mothsThat cyclone up togetherin our own balloon

Along the fence linebirds hop away as we cometrodding on bind weed

In the bottlebrushtwo dull gray birds live and breedamong the red flowers

Above the fence postsI can see a new appleForming on the tree

we call somewhere homeyou are not undeservingbecause you are here

the light coming inis a fridgid pale blue glowslowly warmed by pink

smoke pours from a pileof their discarded trimmingsagainst the cool air

water droplets fallfrom the tailpipe of a truckas it cruises on

awaking I seea sliver of moon glancingthrough the car window

a bird ducks undera loop of honeysucklewrapped around the fence

thick and stagnant aircar pierces on an overpassfine droplets smatter

two little white budsin the beam of a flashlightspring is coming soon

gray road, cars, and skygray hills green as we approachgray road remains gray

perfect water dropson an accidental plumaligned on its twigs

flat, gray isopodsscutte away from the lightas compost is spread

patches of navytrees along the mountainsidewhite fresh snow below

above the mountainsblocking the light of the suna storm flurries down

smooth white snow besidecold salt water flings from tiresand smudges the view

the clouds opened upand poured down while we were gonepassing white snow drifts

chasing my doggiefive inches of rainwaterpricking at my toes

the yard is a bogtransformed by the pummelingrelentless cold rain

as the rain pounds downwe hammer into the walla nail to hang art

a northern fog hangsunusual to existin this part of town

beyond the mountainsand woods the sun sinks belowthe sky still light blue

the moon can seem trappedin the spindly branchesalong the roadside

facing the blue wallis a yellow daffodiltoo tall and too proud

the first sun in daysmelted the artichoke plantsinto something broad

mallow grows so tallwith runoff from the freewayand short in my yard

there are no bees outbut the blossoms are waitingpink and white petals

a sunbeam strikes meand after all of the rainit feels like a smile