haiku

in the endno taxes, no people, no conflictpeaceful deconstruction

eight years agoour souls met across the roomand have not let go

on the yellow linein the middle of the roada single black glove

waiting to cutthe growing dandelions--protecting the bees

sitting alonewondering about purposethen you joined me

after this lifetruly becoming onewith the earth

constant rainturns brown to green--indoors it's cold

rain irrigatesan invisibly populatedwildflower field

silent sky, setting moon,ancient tree, pitted road, homeless man--all tinged with yellow

shadowy woodsnourished by a gentle rain--no escape

life in northern Maine --often more about survivingthan living

quiet on the windowas the door opens then closes--sleeping moth

The young man smiles,waving goodbye from his carfor the very last time.

from the patiotwo cats stare at the sparrowspicking the brown grass

my eyes meet hersthen she's gone -- walking awayshe glances back

giant holes in cedarsfrom pileated woodpeckers--birds at work

along the houselittle green nubs dot the groundpeonies returning

less than a monthbetween snow blowerand lawn mower

until yesterdaymy mother always served teaon a saucer

cardinals nestingin the hedge outsidethe kitchen window