Haiku-a-day
An old nest built in a gnarled willow tree trunk.

A nest in the knot,
perfectly rounded and shaped,
birds fledged and flying.

Haiku-a-day
Evergreens lit by headlights next to a street with a purpe and pink sky behind them in early evening.

The night sky changes,
over me and my dog walking —
first purple, then pink.

Haiku-a-day
A pair of empty milkweed seed husks tacked to a board among handmade folded paper stars.

Milkweed husks like wings
raised solemnly, gray and cream,
taking in the air.

Haiku-a-day

A cold winter bloom,
sunburst lichen under snow —
geese creak in the sky.

Haiku-a-day
The trunks of two Beech trees growing close togther in a forest.

Side-by-side beech trees,
gray-skinned, here long before me
and long after me.

Haiku-a-day
A pair of Mute swans in silhouette on a pond at sunset in November.

The wind comes in cold,
I’ve got a sadness lurking —
Mute swans preen and preen.

Haiku-a-day
A tree trunk and three large rocks at the edge of a river in November.

The air’s been let out,
hardly any birdsong heard,
the bare bones of earth show.

Haiku-a-day
Faint sun coming out behind clouds to briefly reflect in a river in November.

November sun breaks
weakly on the cold river —
everything changes.

Haiku-a-day
A detail of the painting, Sunshine in the Cottage by John Phillip, of a dog regarding a beam of sunlight on the floor in a house.

Sunlight on the floor
is astounding on its own —
we forgive, forget.

Haiku-a-day
Turkeytail mushroom blooming on a decaying log in the forest.

Quietly blooming
like sunsets, seashells, stacked clouds,
deep forest fungi.

Haiku-a-day
Sun sets behind a field of yellow grasses in November.

Standing under sun,
she leans on her walking stick,
her lambs crunch the grass.