Haiku 2.22

Still morning darkness
flickers streetlamps and porch lights,
heralds a new sun

Haiku 8.23

Breezes leak passed window jambs,
cold – althouth only
in comparison. The colorless
sky lightens.

Grey morning fog
envelopes like blankets
which can’t be
thrown off.

the union of sheets
and snores rumbling awake on
our sunday mornings

before dawn the thin
grey cat sleeps nose tucked in paws
on the kitchen chair

frantic swirling yellow
and insolently red leaves
bite at the air

morning sun shifts tiredly
across half turned faces
on the inbound train

How smoothly
the muscles over
your shoulder blades move
as morning steeps
near the kitchen windows

N. P. R. kitchen
radio avalanches news;
coffee perks slowly

clouds gray and tightly
drawn across dawn, cold kitchen
floors ruddy with doubt