My Haiku

March 2025

these faded

smiling faces—

who were they?

(03/21/25)

you found your spa—

like forest bathing,

only with wildflowers

(03/19/25)

Quakers settling

into silence, birdsong—

traffic roars past

(03/18/25)

birdwatching—

a dozen scurrying squirrels

eating up the seeds

(03/17/25)

rehab discouraging

two steps forward

one step back

(03/17/25)

that mid-air moment

when you know

you’re f

     a

    l

   l

i

                                                                               n

                                                                              g

(03/15/25)

He hugs his drum,

sitting on the preschool floor—

future album cover?

                                            (03/14/25)

crossing her front paws

watching me eat

bite after bite

 (03/12/25)

settled on the deck

to read in the sun—please

bring me the pruners 

(03/11/25)

sitting still

under my loyal lap cat hurts—

he gets shorter naps

(03/11/25)

birds at the feeder

ignore the old cat

asleep in the sun

(03/11/25)

transported to a stream

downhill from the monastery

by recorded chants

(03/10/25)

the house and I

grow old together

unraveling bit by bit

3/09/25)

gaps in the old fence—

daffodils bloom there

again this year

(03/08/25)

early spring—

winter finches still

flock to the feeder

(03/07/25)

listening to night music

as my cat watches me

sip warm milk

(03/06/25)

clearing the lot

tire tracks

point to the last tree

(03/05/25)

dog whines out car window;

unmet strangers shrinking

as we leave the park

(03/04/25)

still blooming where we

used to live—memorial

pussy willow

(03/03/25)

“Poppop?” small voice asks.

That guy beams over my shoulder

at the phone.

(03/02/25)

no mess mango

popsicle shared with Nana

via FaceTime 

(03/02/25)

another claw caught

in the blanket—

the old cat hisses

(03/01/25)

February 2025

my lists expanding

as my memory

shrinks

(02/28/25)

treetops swaying

an errant gust sweeps

water from birdbath

( 02/27/25)

old research data

the old shredder

gives up

(02/25/25)

cold restless night

the cat sleeps

on my head

(02/24/25)

morning moon

our dog watches

a dozen deer pass by

(written 02/22/25)

toddler starting young

reading under the covers

by flashlight

(02/23/25)

on her closet floor

child sings

to the doll she’s dressing

(02/21/25)

in fuzzy pet bed

a pile of toddlers

playing doggies

(02/20/25)

this winter’s last snow

glowing before sunrise

in moonlight

(02/19/25)

cat brings

but doesn’t drop

a small dead bird

(02/18/25)

meows from afar—

at my feet he drops

a catnip mouse

(02/17/25)

Leaving Home at 16

dripping rich soil from

healthy roots, she flees to seek

that other garden—hers

(02/16/25)

just right for him now

this toy in my hand—

out-of-state grandson

(02/15/25)

married five decades—

he’s still the one

I dream about

(02/14/25)

sleeping grandson grips

his book and me so both will

be here after his nap

(02/14/25)

the book drops on my

cat when I drift to sleep--

an exciting read

(02/13/25)

cautious deer sees me,

fades into brush—

but doesn’t leave

(02/12/25)

small plump fingers

grasp dry wrinkled ones

for the first time

(02/11/25)

the little girl

in my grown daughter’s

voice tonight

(02/10/25)

dog welcomes me home

then mopes

missing the sitter

(02/09/25)

old dog not seen

since he was a pup

sees me, wags all over

(02/08/25)

if he knew what I do

he’d hold my hand

even tighter

(02/07/25)

baby gazes at

his hands pondering

what to do with them

(02/06/25)

on the pool railing

a vulture spreads his wings—

basking in the sun

(02/05/25)

back home—

same questions

no answers

(alternate version)

after the scan

same questions

no answers

(02/04/25)

old dog rises for

slow walk to mailbox—

races back uphill

(02/03/25)

birdwatching—

a thud as something

strikes the window

I hang shiny strips

to warn of glass—

titmouse attacks

(02/02/25)

I survived

my sick spell—parched

houseplants did not

(02/01/25)

January 2025

a first—standing to hug

looking straight into

granddaughter’s eyes

(01/31/25)

picture books of Rome

take us there

grandchild and me

(01/31/25)

skaters on board--

fire boat breaks ice

to get to downed plane

(01/30/25)

pine siskin

tapping on hard water

at the birdbath

(01/29/25)

drenching rain

old tree roots

lose their grip

(01/28/25)

cold morning

eye to eye with titmouse

at the feeder

(01/27/25)

buried in a stack

of scholarly papers

wild words

(01/26/25)

possum laps water

from cat’s bowl

before it freezes

(01/25/25)

drops run down the

shower door, faster when they

run together

(01/24/25) 

morning

I put on another

blue shirt

(01/23/25)

aiming into

reflected treetops—

bird’s sudden headache

(01/22/25)

first bungee dive

he screams in delight

and fear

 (01/21/25)

long shadows

streak the snow

but the sun is winning

(01/20/25)

silky ginger cat

leans into

my touch

(01/19/25)

snow melt day

passing hawk shadow

clears the feeder

(01/18/25)

once reminders came

from my brain—now

my wrist buzzes

(01/17/25)

asleep, hand on cat,

in dream flicking bristles

choosing a new brush

(01/16/25)

after the meeting

picking up from the stage floor

 15 year service award

(01/15/25)

new solar panels!

but an old tree

had to go

(01/14/25)

Night intruder’s light

beams through the slats!

ah—full moon

(01/13/25)

snow melt dripping 

from outstretched branches

like tinsel in the sun

(01/12/25)

seed railing buffet

flocks of finches, none slower

 than the hawk—so far

(01/11/25)

on the hot tub steps

red geraniums

glow in the winter sun

(01/11/25)

perched on the backs

of patio table chairs —

snowbirds

(01/10/25)

10-inch snowfall

he puts out birdseed

in slippers, no socks

(01/09/25)

ahead of winter storm

taking down

icicle lights

(01/09/25)

birdfeeder

a stag

samples the seed

(01/09/25)

humpback whale

rubs his back on the bottom

of our raft

(01/08/25)

listening to

“Fall Asleep Fast” music

all night long

(01/08/25)

toes gripping shield,

one peers around my

squirrel-proof feeder

(01/07/25)

Kamala

reporting the count

her face

(01/06/25)

amid bird chatter

a fallen twig snaps--

deer leap past

(01/06/25)

new glasses--

deer shapes

shifting through the woods

(01/05/25)

backyard birdwatching

without my glasses--

crows welcome

(01/04/25)

meeting on the trail,

man and wolf

eye one another

(01/03/25)

December 2024

New Year’s

cutting spent blossoms

from the amaryllis

(12/31/24)

interactive cat toy

escapes

under the dresser

(12/30/24)

my palm full

of grandson’s

play dough caterpillars

(12/30/24)

escape

sounds of a Zen garden

on my phone

(12/28/24)

thunder as we strike--

the snake on the ground

takes longer to die

(The idea for this haiku came from a 4th grader 

who came upon his uncles killing a snake

 behind the barn during a lightening storm.)

(12/27/24)

atop the tall pine

bald eagle watches 

as we pack to leave

(12/26/24)

late father’s dream hug

scent of tobacco 

on his shirt

(12/25/24)