Potted pleasures hail
Autumn’s arrival – gracious
welcoming party.
(Image my own. Haiku borrowed from One Woman’s Quest II)
Potted pleasures hail
Autumn’s arrival – gracious
welcoming party.
(Image my own. Haiku borrowed from One Woman’s Quest II)
Art of listening, best taught
by the family pooch –
ears attuned to nuances
carefully weeding through
human gibberish
for words that resonate –
treat, dinner, walk, cuddles…
Eyes inviting compassion
conveying depth beyond understanding
and when tone turns impatient
little paws retreat, as if words are blows
If only I could learn to listen
hear the workings of your mind
inquisitive, compelling – imagine
what I might learn….
(Best Listener first appeared here, August 2020. Image my own)
Daunting
the looming
mountainside
or the oceanside
cliffs whose ascent
mocks my limitations
Fragile,
the glint of
spidery thread,
whose expanse, though
delicate, stretches without fear
The way our income curves
downward, while
our needs
mount
Life’s slopes
precarious, demanding
inevitable, and yet we find ourselves
ill-prepared when forced to navigate them.
Golden glow transforms
grassy meadow – Earth giggles
with fantastical delight.
(For Eugi’s Weekly prompt: meadows.
Photo my own.)
It’s a bird’s perspective I envy –
the ability to perch up high
balanced, no matter the weather
unaffected by the drama below –
I shall never know such calm,
being afraid of heights.


(For Bird Weekly Photo challenge: birds perched up. Not sure of featured image (a sparrow of somes sort), Bald Eagle, and Red-winged blackbird) A Bird’s Eye View first appeared here August 2019
Whose Earth is this?
ask the trees reaching
to kiss mountainous sky.
Who cares for her?
ask the creatures all,
grateful for her bounty.
Machines rumble
forests fall – a stand
for progress answers none.
(Image my own.)
Does Robin feel the flutter
of fledglings incubating
beneath her downy breast
And does her heart soar
with thoughts of little beaks
soon to be agape with hunger?
How carefully she tends her nest
nature or nurture, I do not know
but the miracle remains the same.
(For Eugi’s weekly challenge: flutter. Image my own.)
Ground beneath
shifting
once solid
now swirling
dissolving –
gritty eddies
of sand…
Would be
a desert storm
if not standing
at water’s edge;
nothing for it
but to leap
take a risk
and fly…
(This poem first appeared here as Flying Fish, in 2016. Now edited and retitled for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: swirling. Image my own.)
A band of blue jays
gather around, debase
serenity of this garden
party: chickadees and cardinals
scatter, sense danger
in raucous intrusion –
Bemused, I watch, marvel
birds parodying humans.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Examining the intricacies
of a spider’s weaving
Marvelling as a mother raccoon
carries her babies one by one
while a bobcat prowls the tree line
Delighting in the birth of a calf
anticipating the arrival of more
Wonder and trepidation
coinciding – and I, behind
lens, am child again
wide-eyed basking
in the glorious outdoors.