Category Archives: Haibun

Wish I May Wish I Might


Star—so bright, I raise my head

To see— speckled sparkling light

Wavering through wind pushing fast dark clouds.


I watched shades of darkening gray and bright white.

I lowered my head— pulled up my collar,

Mumbling on your star tonight.


“Wish I may, wish I might, that the path I follow—

Though dimly illumed—widen on this narrow—

 Crescent moonlit night”.



   On the darkest night –walking into the valley –with a crescent moon,

I found a star shining brightly in between the looming black stands—

Tall forest oaks, leaning birches, leafless maple trees and commanding pines.

– Mind, menaced by the dark– I kept walking alongside starlight sparkling between the trees. Flickering—glittering— decreasing my speed until I had to stop.

I stood still—looking up, I recited, “wish i may, wish i might, wish on the first star i see tonight”. Without wishing for anything and without thinking— I went home to sleep in my own bed –

 awakened to a warm and reassuring sunlight.

Hear the sound of wind

Before the tree has to bend

Base yourself to ground.


Posted by on April 14, 2016 in Experimental, Haibun, Love, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry, Zen



Hearing Through His Eyes


 Hamburger! Cheeseburger! White milk and apple pie. He was such a carefree soul. If it seemed, he had let anyone down.– he offered them popovers, explanations, and smiles,

 Sometimes, being misunderstood with ungracious mud pies.

   When that happened he would eat and share with his good friends — Mud pies— stewed marbles and crystal scones.

   But— never, without clear eyes, asking the server’s of those pies— for their reason’s why — offering popovers, explanations and smiles, for serving up such an interesting surprise. Their actions? — understanding the reasons for who we each are – who we become – and knowing the soul is full of good actions – always avoiding confrontation — leaving them— to walk in our hearts through the dark— for that pervasive enlightening light.

   School completed, home, wife and child, he continues to walk in shared solace, among his favorite oaks, maples, and pines. always stopping in his Sacred strand of birches – alone – listening to heart, body, and mind — seeing – Looking even with the sky, that has many hues of blue whisky, wispy clouds, brightened by the sun reflecting on the moon—listening to the birch whispering whimsically, the secrets of the souls —  of the pleasant ones… once in mud subdued.

 He leaned on the birch

Listening to what was said

Hearing through his eyes

Photo caught/taken of Abe “listening” by world-renowned black and white photographer, the late Chet Brickett

Photo caught/taken of Abe “listening” by world-renowned black and white photographer, the late Chet Brickett


Posted by on April 11, 2016 in Children, Haibun, New Hampshire, Poetry


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     How shall I write about this moonless night? To go, I suppose, without eyesight. To free my mind of past mistakes that I stumbled upon in sunlight.  Or, find myself with nothing visibly at stake—and scribble down experiences still bent, unable to make straight—Yet ,allows me—to fly over their fences—

Feathers carried in the wind

Land at season’s racing feet

Dancing their last dance


Posted by on April 10, 2016 in Haibun, Pine Cone Diaries, Zen


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Silent spring moon branch

 Father tree mother budding

 On evening breeze

Emma-Rose girl1

(She thought she would become a Princess    

until  —  she met the Queen).


   Twin birches destined to divide each other. Each rooted in One Sacred seed. How can they grow in plurality? Who, will make the decision to face the sun?

   Embraced at the base with one heart, they both grow shading a small green meadow, beside an all season stream.

   Shy — they bend slightly, so she can listen to what they say — holding her sandwich in silence.

    She is doing it more often now, learning — to hear.

Two summer birches

Outside her morning doorway

Glowing Sacred white

Twin Birches 2


Posted by on April 3, 2016 in Beginnings, Children, Haibun, New light/New life, Poetry, prose


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