Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Reflections in the Reeds

A breeze weaves through bulrush and cat-tail, carrying the scent of Russian olive trees in bloom. The marsh is alive with flights of redwings, yellow-headed blackbirds and marsh wrens. The sounds of birds and insects are everywhere.

a hawk spirals down
the updraft 

My brother and I used to put in at this very spot. He died two years ago and I remember his quietness, his calm. I miss him. I was always looking for something else. Discontented. I've learned to slow it down, however, enjoy life as it's happening – perhaps I'm becoming more like him. I could do worse. Now if I can paddle the pond on my own. 

in a canoe's wake
the ebb and flow
of clouds

July 2013, vol 9, no 2
Issue of Contemporary Haibun Online 

Just been thinking about Bing, my brother who died a few years back, and decided to post this. 

Friday, January 20, 2017


sun on snow
the paradox
of you and me

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Gathering storm

gathering storm
each cloud
consumes the other

Saturday, January 7, 2017

The hurt

a bruised peach –
the hurt within

Monday, January 2, 2017

Winter Haiku

heavy snowfall trudging through memories

(One of my rare one-liners)


deepening snow
the burst of color
in a lark's song


snowbound . . .
the neighbor's black cat
forges fresh tracks


snow upon snow –
my dead parents,
and now my brother


my life
in this small box
fading photographs