Bogs and wetlands are old familiars
plant rot water brown as tea
suck mouthed mud waiting for the careless
but only an oddity where the snappers live
if you know where to put your feet
and they will, these places
send energy snaking through the blood
to shoot sparklers from your fingers
and run circles around
your soul’s shoulders
as you wait for the heron
to drop down
from its nest
to fish
Category Archives: life up here
Haiku for Tuesday
Behind the bare trees
broad strokes of platinum cloud
frost on bird feathers
Five minutes
Back in the woods
up the road past
the old town reservoir
where chain links
protect unused water
and brilliant leaves
in the way of
swamp maples
Farther in
the pace of fall slows
to less flashy spots
of orange and red
dropped deep into
reluctant green
Empty spaces
once the home
of many trees
have begun to fill in
Mindful of the light
dipping toward hunters hour
we turn for home
the cinnamon ferns
wear beige now
feather tips point along
the angle of fall sun
A Haiku for Sunday morning
A fresh morning breeze
black dog waits by the screen door
heat will claim the day
A bag of whistles
They clank along with me
pieces of a longish life
each note a color tone shell
for its part of the story
days or years from a to b
still singing, they diffuse slowly
sound that holds time safe
Words
My words flow over the rocks
smooth and gentle things
when what I want them to do
is shout out loud
avoid the boulders by a hair
laughing hard
and coax some stones to spin
____________________________________
The last line included at the suggestion of fellow poet Kort Fisher.
Heart’s day
life gallops faster as remaining days shorten and I want, I ache for what, more time? more pleasure? more laughter? more slow dances? more hardass blues?
All of it
Things I didn’t know I loved
I didn’t know I loved the spirit in soil
deep under reed marshes
connected to it through my bones
a vision of roiling life
I didn’t know I loved to sing
that song could make me cry
joy a quick moment on the backs of notes
voices together light to dark
I didn’t know that I loved sense of place
color memories until they were gone
layered goodbyes in dim sunlight
dusty motes on gray air
I didn’t know I still loved touch
thought it dried and done but not forgotten
only to find a fire so ready lit my blood sang
even as I would cry aloud
I didn’t know that I loved words
that they would fill every empty place
pull me with them words from my eyes
words from unheard thought
I didn’t know how much I loved my life
sweet along with sharp and hard
rushing in over tidal flats escaping just as fast
that I could cherish it not just live it
____________________________________________
This list poem came out of a short poetry workshop taught in 2015 by the poet Doug Anderson. We read Things I Didn’t Know I Loved by the Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet, and were prompted to write our own list poem by the same title. This is the revised version.
Treescape
The wolf throws her head back to howl
rising out of crystal spikes and mimic trees
a night when even lynx furred feet
will freeze on snow
glass visited in the dark by shapes the woods hurl
quick half life images for the next morning
with one of them shouting at the sky
First look
A morning pink comet
streaks the sky from left to right
the sun still floating up
the mountain’s eastern ridge
reaches up to slit the tail
its beam sharp enough
to cut through falling silk
Haiku for today
Late afternoon light
golden beech leaves almost turned
lantern lights the woods
Insistent messenger
A mourning dove in my apple tree
looks through the window
its message meant to prod
sun shrinks as the cold returns
woods maple tops spike leafless now
bronze oaks and candle beech stand guard
water lilies sink into the pond again
a scooped out moon brings frost
bears already denned up the hill
not quite past time for seeds but hurry
or jays will bring their beaks
Life With Horace 