haiku

"Sorry, Bob Dylan--I can state with certaintyI have no answers."

my world brightenedby the death all around me--Fall in New England

these dayscan be unsettlingnow that tables have turned

eyes cannot focusdarkness takes overas everything disappears

rain all nightparched ground drinks deeply--even the streets have no puddles

September squirrelsreadying for winterin northern Maine

Autumnencourages me:listen to the crickets

in the back yardthe final mow catches rainthe smell of wet grass

above the demonsAutumn encourages me:listen to the crickets

feel free to enjoybut i'll not foul my coffeewith pumpkin spice

horseradish--all the slugs on the leavesevery morning

the food is greatbut i wouldn't want to live there--Los Angeles

shaking in the aira worm in a crow's beakthere then gone

pine trees by the lakeroots unearthed by the waterbent but not broken

flitting through the aira Monarch butterfly -- no, wait --it's a Viceroy

"I still like you," he says,"but I will never forgive you.""That's fair," I say.

saltines on my platei pop the sardines open --cats at my feet

on the middle shelfbehind two cans of tunaa tin of sardines

purple discin the grass under the oakbehind the pine grove

under the willowon a wrought iron hooka lantern glows