When you think the day is Almost over, Go outside onto your porch. You’ll find there’s more That’s yet to come Once you slow to watch the sun As it sets in radiant seconds That spin into minutes and send Clouds along so fast It’s almost in time-lapse. Only when you slow to porch speed …
The road rises and falls ahead of me, Dusty gray asphalt shouldered by the Pale burnt orange of summer grass That whispers dryly as I pass. Down the center of the road between the pines, I notice how the mustard double lines Match the nodding goldenrod and Black-eyed Susans that stand Tall along the highway’s …
Spring is in the air, and jessamine’s in the pine tree’s hair. My second-story bedroom window looks out into a nearby stand of pine trees, and a flash of yellow caught my eye a few days ago as I opened my window shade. Grabbing a piece of paper, I dashed off a few exploratory lines …
"New Seed" A pressed tree leafs out, painted veins distilling light— a seed sprouts within. "Tree Speak" Rustle, groan, and creak, paper pierced with ink. Silent? No, they ever speak. Both of these haiku explore how trees can be more than merely trees. They can create new worlds and have voices of their own when …
