I’m reading Natalie Goldberg again. This time I’m reading her for my Andrea Reads America project. I know she lived and taught in Taos, and I wanted her voice when I read New Mexico. I’ve been restless lately, needing to create, yet not creating. Knowing writing would make me feel better, yet not writing. Goldberg’s … Continue reading Live with vigor
Pelicans glide Wingtips to water Leaving me behind. I am happy. The sea sighs beside me: My footprints will wash away. Shrimpers pull nets Smelling of fish Into the clouds. Glistening arcs, Children dive Into white cresting waves. I squint. The ocean Commands my whole view. Crash! Surf pounds at my feet. A shrimp boat spreads nets … Continue reading Haiku from the beach
Standing stones topple in a rush of melt water; I have lost control. Continue reading Spring Haiku
A creak at our door, black as night out the window. “Mom, it’s six-oh-two!” Cinnamon, butter, and warm yeasted dough – scents of Christmas morning. Stampede of kid feet down carpeted stairs – squeals of delight at the tree. Wide eyes sparkle like holiday lights; a kiss that tastes of chocolate. Small hands – sticky … Continue reading Haiku from Christmas
Scent of tree bark and earth, I crunch through the forest. Warm acorns flecked with gold: our child’s hazel eyes. Maples sway, dangling rubies in the sun. Saffron sheaves tremble – a rustle of skirts. Under iron clouds leaves rattle – paper husks before a storm. Shiver, shudder, swivel, SNAP – and twirl free. End … Continue reading Oak crisps and iron skies: October haiku
Sunlight shines on evergreens browning. River rushes on below. This entry for the Between photo challenge is in honor of my husband’s favorite tree, the eastern hemlock, which is suffering widespread death in the Appalachians due to an exotic insect, the Hemlock woolly adelgid (HWA). Where 20 years ago we ran our hands over hemlocks’ … Continue reading Between love and sorrow
Butterfly Mind 