The blizzard whines through willow, bends the whole thicket, but one last leaf fluttering loose
When I pass a still pond of water, especially during the spring when the Frogs are sounding, I think of Basho's poem Old pond frog jump in plop I have not read it in the original Japanese--cannot is more accurate--but have read that in the Japanese the poem is such an onomatopoeic poem that sound … Continue reading Frog Pond Haiku
I am of two birds whether the feeder's sure seed or hunger of horizons Writelee initially piloted this yesterday. It is Goodby and Retrospective 1. From May 30, 2018
I am of two birds whether the feeder's sure seed or hunger of horizons Broken
No rainbow over parched pastures. Flood’s promise—mud in a dwindle pool In response to Daily Prompts word of the day, with a broken heart
This May rain :: dull sheen on stone, chill wind-shook-leaves— apple blossom buds. Responding to the day and the prompt: Premature
Wind clacks in willows A Meadow Lark whistles I will sit a while. Still.
Old man’s eyes scan blue beyond cottonwood grove where child saw orange bird.
Yellow dandelions Lawn mower :: heads cut off Green :: so bland and plain.
Bitter root blooms, old man won’t turn head to see fog-veils lift off Maiden Breast Hill,