Oh! Coleus of majestic colors of red, yellow, and green, standing tall among the pansies and petunias.
The pine New Hampshire mountains, as a back drop, gives the admirer a reflection in the mind. Colorful fantasies even to the blind.
black and white is stark
rainbows from dark clouds bend light
This time, just before dusk, I’ve noticed, on several occasions, a black butterfly. The only reason I notice it, she flutters around the sunflowers, never touching them, and just as quickly, I notice her whizzing by my ear as she flies away. “Sleep tight” I’ve heard.
Now, what the hell is that all about? As I said my prayers.
The butterflies were flying around the flowers and blooming blackberry bushes. Fluttering about in scenes of frenzy before they landed on one of them; wings upright and still.
With their bright colors in the noon day sun, they enjoy their nectar for lunch. Then, they flutter away; wings never stopping, across the grass and flirting with the branches of the trees. But, they never go to the top of them, with no such dreams.
nature is alive
productive and on purpose
enjoy who you are
regardless of all my perfections and ignorance, I still seek redemption, in my Sacred nature.
I’ve been washing dishes since I was twelve years old. Sometimes wiping, sometimes scrubbing, and once in a while soaking. Which brings me to my current state of six spoons, four forks, and three knives. And an assorted accouterments that rattle and roll freely every time I open and close the drawer.
To make a long story short, at seventy-four, I use one spoon a day. Then on the seventh day I have to do the dishes. I rinse one out for the day’s coffee, having run out of spoons and noticing the mess it has created during the week before, I throw it back into the suds; and begin my day of service.
she waved to me with a smile and with an age-old hand
inviting me to enjoy this this day and who I am;
in April, lost in the afternoon.
Darkness and despair
“there’s a crack in everything” *
Grass above concrete
**haibun is the combination of two poems: a prose poem and haiku. The form was popularized by the 17th century Japanese poet Matsuo Basho. Both the prose poem and haiku typically communicate with each other, though poets employ different strategies for this communication—some doing so subtly, while others are more direct.