Tag Archives: spring

April 2023 in Haiku

Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Needham Street empty
even on a Saturday.
One of rain’s blessings.

Sedum clumped with leaves.
I pick them out, snap old stalks,
revealing green buds.

Mouse turds, balsam, dust.
A page from 9/11.
“I begin to cry.”

Stupid blonde Nazi
lasted only ten minutes.
I love New Yorkers!

Cars parked down the street.
The prayers have likely begun.
Gathering again.

We talk at the curb.
Three out of five in slippers.
The power’s gone out.

The power comes back
with a whoosh, click, and a hum.
Finn barks his head off.

I forgot my phone.
How can I feel this naked?
The dog doesn’t care.

Tennessee Justins —
Galvanizing, beautiful.
Their fire inspires.

Critter annoys us
storing nuts between the joists
living his best life.

Fifty-five by one.
Today the bird bath goes out.
Flapping joy to come.


Always in clumps, some
open, some closed, some pale, some
like neon butter.


Ruby maple buds
litter the ground. Strewn jewels
or kid’s cereal?

Buzzing, insistent
on the wrong side of the glass.
Hello bumblebee!

The canopy starts
to assert itself. Green fuzz,
promises of shade.

The lake holds the sky
and somehow our wishes too.
You don’t have to ask!

In my dream I sew
a go bag. Indigo lace.
Again. And for what?

Mary Oliver
lauds idleness. Someone though
was busy writing.

4/17 Bonus
Crowds out in the rain,
screaming, clapping. Obiri
pulls out for the win.

Jayland Walker ran.
Cops shot him forty-six times.
Handcuffed a dead man.

If a woman says
she has a UTI, then
she has one. The end.

To rake liatris
is to feel satisfaction.
The mop free of leaves.

No forsythia
this year. Temperatures too weird.
Will yellow return?

Twitter is trash now.
Second monied narcissist
ruining stuff. Sigh.

Too cold and rainy
for the loop. Instead we make
the figure eight. Wet!

Bluebells. Chill air. Mud.
Soon the ferns will stretch upwards
with glorious speed.

New rock wall. New deck.
Second floor ready for joists.
Changes on our route.

4/26  three today
Fresh mulch scents my block.
Animal. Woody. Have I
ever loved a horse?

Clunk and whoosh, the T
goes under the Langley bridge.
I find a penny.

New Yorkers have known.
The very day the law changed,
Carroll filed her suit.

“Share something she said.”
Years of writing together
yield jewel after jewel.

Zooey Zephyr holds
her mike high, a new symbol
of the resistance.

Who lives in that house —
the one where father then son
killed themselves. Such grief!

It’s warm enough now
for the lake project to plant.
Sweetspire! Young maples!

How many rain beads
does it take to turn tulips
into a Queen’s crown?

Tuesday. It’s Tuesday.

In thinking about how my snapshot of days through haiku differs from my usual blog posts, I realized that the short form doesn’t allow room for complaint or self-denigration. I might do too much of both as a rule.

So here’s to a fresher, more immediate style of blog posting.

With K at the office today, I can watch Kimmel at lunch without restraint.

I made too many lentils for last night’s linguine/lentil dish, so I may be on the hunt for a good lentil burger recipe this afternoon.

Finn did not bark at Winnie today. Winnie did not bark at Finn.

I don’t know why but watching a squirrel cross the sidewalk with an apple core in her mouth this morning filled me with gladness.

Trout lily’s up. Solomon seal is not. Will I or won’t I see a jack-in-the-pulpit this year? The suspense. Virginia bluebells have spread — how nice!

Going to California for three weeks next month and early June. Given that it was 27 degrees here yesterday and that the weather in LA seems to have calmed down, I can’t wait.

Of course, it’s not about the weather.

Finished round 8 or 10 or who’s counting anymore of my novel. Cut around 5,000 words. But not enough. So later today I will copy the file, rename it “shorter Weight of Cloth” and delete five chapters. I have a pretty good idea which ones.

Maybe I’ll publish those orphans here?

Shadows and poems

Muscular and assertive shadows with claims to the olden days. Wisteria.

Shadows that process.

A delicate shadow that refuses your judgment.

Shadows warmed by wood.

A shadow with secrets.

A bevy of shadows? Or perhaps a parliament. No, a convocation!

Happy Monday all! We walked out with Finn this morning, flexible in our gear. Hats on, hats off, gloves on, gloves off. Langley windy, as usual. Warmed up by the bottom of the Cypress slope, as usual. We feel spring arrive through the lens of habit and garments. Finn sleeps now. Pooped.

Gratitude and the Color Blue

A good long walk. A full fridge. Healthy fam.

That’s it, really, a gratitude post.

But here are some collections of BLUE*

* prompted by Acey at SparklingLotus

She asks, among other things: what blues are you drawn to and what blues do you avoid?

** Harriet Tubman print of a painting by Natalie Daise aka GullahMama on Instagram

Slate gray skies

Cold enough for down coat, hat, and gloves for the morning’s dog walk. I feel a little about spring as I do about Bernie. How grateful I’d be if he dropped out! How grateful I’d be if we had a warm, sunny day! I anticipate the lush riches of spring with a heightened need this year — unfurling maple leaves, nodding daffodils, the bold tulips and magnolias. All this time spent looking out windows framing grey, taupe, and dun!

This morning’s writing class was marred by technical difficulties. I breathed through it. Wrote through it.

Here are some double exposures I created two nights ago. The constant image is the star-adorned wooden box that used to house my sister’s Aquarian Tarot deck. The other images include: dome interior from Rome, a statue of the Virgin from San Rufino cathedral in Assisi, a quilt, a garden bowl of water.

My remoulade bombed. It looked like cat puke in the chowder. Not at all what I was hoping for!

Tomorrow, we pick up a $30 box of produce in the Fenway, an effort organized by a place called “The Neighborhood.” I want to support small markets and local farmers to the extent I can, so there is more sourcing to do here.

Off for a nap! Hope you all are managing as best you can. I’m not looking for silver linings at the moment, but I wonder if this experience will help me develop patience.