Sunlight sags onto
afternoon mists and buoyed clouds
shift without purpose
Month: June 2013
Haiku 6.23
Cold night winds
broom stars
away from the moon
Rescue
Kindness was meant to be simple
a dish of food, scratch of an ear,
the momentary, warm place
where blizzards were kept away from your sleep.
Now sidewalks blister from the equinox
and each day as I walk home, I listen for your cries
as you wait for me in the window.
Mom
Giving you up is the hardest,
even after walking those
finely trimmed sidewalks absent of voice,
and long minutes spent staring
at barren hands unable to touch.
Each path home still plunges me straight to you.
Eager. Hurried. Always
missing you is what remains
and this stone
offers your name
but never your forgiveness.
Haiku 6.9
Fallen young bird cries
under the evergreens – firm
hands thwart the house cat
Haiku 6.1
M-80s at 2 AM — Wild
vulgar voices slam windows.
Roused cat purrs for food.
