Where Does This Time Go?

Box glares in sunlight;
Outside a pink flower glows.
Ain't life wonderful?

Roasted coffee smell
Before I go out the door
To cool Fall morning.

Dead branch, blue flowers;
Sharp shadows on the old barn;
Not a sound is heard.

A faded half moon
Hangs in a crystal blue sky,
Over the tree tops.

Moving from shadows--
Two women and dog emerge;
Which of them came first?

The woods are silent,
Not even a bird chirping.
Where does this time go?


Caught in yellow leaves
The sunlight cannot escape,
But sings its freedom.

Mushroom on the road,
Strangely standing on its head.
Wait! It's an apple!.

Where's the Miracle?

Kath with me today;
Company on haiku walk;
Always something new.

It's late afternoon--
Sun has moved over the lawn;
Now casts soft shadows.

On tips of the grass
Sun spreads the last light of day--
Glowing, pointy peaks.

In the wood's deep gloom
White flowers give off their light.
Thunder far away.

Now the sun has gone;
The road is covered with gray;
I hear our footsteps.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13

Bright morning sunshine
Touches the old spider web;
Blotches on the lawn.

Air purifier
Humming in the living room
Makes me want to sleep.

Dark timothy grass
Rises spectral from the field;
Absorbs the sunshine.

Dark and sunlit stream
Courses into the forest;
Its sound is muted.

Too fast for camera,
Leaves keep falling from the sky;
I will catch one yet.

Where's the miracle
On this sunny Fall morning?
It must be ahead.

Liquid Sounds are All Around

This walk is with tears--
Not from the sun or rain's end
But from my full heart.

My stream is raging;
Welling up with white water,
Roaring down the hill.


On the other side
A lake has formed in the woods
Where there were just trees.

Slow caw of a hen
Cautious in the breaking sun,
Between the two rains.


Gentle stream no more;
It obliterates the road
While jewel weed watches.


Waterfall in woods;
Liquid sounds are all around;
Road is glistening.



My furry cat friend
Comes down the road to greet me.
We meet so rarely.

Not Even Bees are Working

A gray Labor Day;
Not even bees are working
Under the thick sky.


Cobweb on window
But not a sign of spider;
She's yesterday's news.



Sun breaks through the clouds
And the insects get busy
All around my face.



Blue before the brown:
Chicory rules the road for now.
Still the dead leaves fall.


Black Eyed Susans smile
Demurely by the road side;
They keep their secret.


Patches of sunlight
Dapple the darkened forest,
Then just fade away.


Puddle reflects sky
(Or does sky reflect puddle?)
It's so confusing.


An ear on the hill
Cups its soft, blank mushroom flesh
White and unhearing.

Red Leaves and Brown Ferns

Chicken on my lawn,
Pecking away like it's hers;
(Well, maybe it is.)


Wooden chimes, long still,
Soundless on the empty porch;
No breezes help it.


Mushroom and a leaf--
Strange companions on the lawn.
Girl sings on the road.


Warm smell of manure
Floats out from the busy barn.
Where there's shit, there's life.


It's the same old fence,
Not made worse by hurricane,
But not made better.

Red leaves and brown ferns--
Anomalies in the woods
Just for the moment.


Two cars race past me
In opposite directions;
A strong jolt of fear.

Abandoned no longer
House has a new guardian
Who pays attention.

It's Off Its Rocker

With a trash bundle
I step into the sunlight
And sparkling green leaves.

Through kitchen windows
Sun rays fall on the tall grass
Dappling shadows.

Sitting near the porch
Stella's friend waits patiently.
Does he miss her, too?

Old wooden chair sits;
Something isn't right with it.
It's off its rocker.

Sound of buzzing bee
Hums up from the chicory;
Fall honey harvest.

Leaves float gently down;
A few slide along the road.
Still the woods are green.

Hiding behind leaves,
Tree monster stretches its limbs
Frozen in horror.

Muffled radio
Hums from the parked pickup truck;
There's no one in sight

.

Frog jumps into stream--
No "plop", water's rushing fast;
More of a "splash--whoosh".
(with apologies to Basho)

A Truly Soft Day

After hurricane
I take my first haiku walk.
What will be out there?

Sun has disappeared;
White flowers grow in my yard.
Winds did not kill them.


Chickory survives
With Queen Anne's Lace by the road;
So does goldenrod.


Distant dog barking;
Insistent bubbling of stream;
Child shouts from house.


Stray broken tree limbs
Swept to the side of the road:
Memory of storm.


In sphinx position
Cat watches me from driveway;
What is it thinking?

Small brown leaf on green,
Resting there and moribund
Whispering future.

A truly soft day;
Even the cars seem subdued--
Ride on faint shadows.