A battalion of vines,
in a measured
and patient assault, beat back
the metal frame of window screens,
attack the frayed cords
of miniblinds.
The window jambs
have already fallen
to the first wave of tendrils.
summer
Haiku 07.08
Sunlight pushes at the
window glass. Breezes gently
lift curtain hems.
Haiku 7.27
grey walled clouds bank storms
one town over – my neighbor’s
chained dog barks wildy
7.18, 2:30 AM
Not even night
noises penetrate screens
bulging with dark skies.
7.17
Grey morning fog
envelopes like blankets
which can’t be
thrown off.
Haiku 7.13
Heat presses the air;
Birds are quiet at windows.
Gray cats stretch slowly.
Haiku 6.29
maple branches twist
fervently in the wind, rain
slaps against windows
Boat Dock Late Afternoon, July 1973
Haiku 6.9
Fallen young bird cries
under the evergreens – firm
hands thwart the house cat
Haiku 5-31
Shrub roses open,
each echoing fragrances from
summers long buried