Tag Archives:

Cabin Fever


Gazing out my window

Roof drips melted snow

Crystal droplets slide down glass

Each one trails one another

Racing to awaken spring grass


Posted by on February 7, 2016 in Beginnings, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry


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Autumn Haiku(s)

The leaf, green, full-grown

falls yellow in autumn frost,

meets angel in flight.


Love, love, sing don’t cry

Lilly pad tops below ice

Autumn’s thrown dice.


Gold feather swamp grass

bending in maturity

above frozen pond.swamp grass




Posted by on November 1, 2015 in Haiku, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry, window gazing


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In The Hearth Of Our Hearts, Love Is Never Lost


Autumn wind, roaring announcement through

distance trees; a moment of rolling sound before we can see

the last clinging leaves, scatter in colorful confetti to dance at our feet.

Winter is coming, in celebration of the bereaved.


We remember those souls

buried below the frost; those we loved and those we lost.

Yes, let us leave the seasons’ past.

Gather the fire wood in our arms, and let us stack


the warmth of memories as we stand fast

embracing what we have, remembering great things

in the glowing, popping sparks, in the hearth

of our hearts, awaiting another spring.


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What’s Her Name

When she was younger, strong and stern,

She raised me in punctuality, good manners,

And, God-fearing morality.


I remember one evening, when I was fifteen,

Excusing myself from the supper table, hair still combed and face washed clean;

I said I was going out for a walk, and, “was there anything she might need?”


I opened the front door, rushing without discreet,

I heard her holler, “be back before eight.

You have an hour of homework and I expect you, not to be late.”


Well… the time did fly and so did I,

When I heard the clock tower striking nine.

What have I been thinking, not paying attention to the time?


Hoping she was busy somewhere in the house;

Perhaps in the kitchen, or, in the bathroom undoing her hair,

Any place else but in the front hall in that familiar overstuffed chair.


Nope! No such luck. There she was, as I opened the door,

With a half-smile of melting stern

Asking me, “sooo… what’s her name?”

*Picture of my Mother 🙂Ma


Posted by on October 11, 2015 in Love, Mothers, Pine Cone Diaries, Prose Poetry, Silly stuff


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Indian Summer In New Hampshire

She came in the frenzy of early spring

In pelting rain from frozen white crystal;

Melting the fury of winter’s last storm

Into puddles of mud and fertile soil.


Innocently barren of the gift to bring,

Settles’ her seduction in silent committal;

Melodic and mysteriously her children were born

From her lover in summer, as she slowly recoils.


But, her children’s children, seeds in spring,

Are cradled in the weeds and flowers and in tall thistle.

Parents cut and picked, sit on a table adorned

In abundance and beauty of a passing seasons’ toil.


Now the grandmother of spring, peaks of pride in color

Of her majestic fall around the lakes and mountains of New Hampshire.


Posted by on September 20, 2015 in Love, Nature, New England, New Hampshire, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry


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wear a hat



Vacant minds across the kitchen table

Leaning on their elbows of time,

Understanding they are at the end of their lives,

Never thinking that there was space

Beyond what they have lived;

Life, was a distance passed in glorious moments.


“I’ll walk the dog. Put on your pajamas

And heat the water for tea.

I’ll peel you an orange when I get back.

Is it cold outside?”

“Yes, wear a hat.”

[Rev. 6]


Posted by on August 30, 2015 in AARP, Beginnings, Love, Poetry, Zen


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Shadows (A Sonnet In B Flat)

Shadows in love, walking aging souls,

Revel and bevel in a morning dew.

Greater than all beauty in mornings told,

Shadows follow shade, making one from two.


Bodies at eventide embrace the moon,

Waxing and waning, our shadows did meld;

Sometimes impatient with impending doom.

Arms entwined, her heart, in mine I held.


And now, as you decide darkness is fear,

In a single line a shadow you find;

Walking without me, one has disappeared.

Yes, a cloud does cover the sun sometime.


Oh, the moon still finds my shadow in sheets;

Of a lover’s body, empty to keep.


Posted by on August 16, 2015 in Love, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry


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Notes found on the refrigerator August 2015

Dancing In Silence


Silence is a noise we try to avoid.

Whether in conversation, in loneliness,

Or, when we are bored.


When it is present, it opens the door

With no mind, to a room softly making love

To no one, in no space, for nothing.

So, before entering

We kiss our mind gently good-bye;

Entering where our heart is,

Dancing to the music, of a silent chord.


Light Green Panties

Can-Can leaves dancing in frenzy

Lifting and turning up

In Rhythmic breeze,

Fluttering in the same direction,

Without any shame,

 Their light green panties.

Oh, such beauty,

And, oh such a tease;

Waiting for the applause

Of the incoming rain.


Song Bird, Oh, Song Bird

Song bird hiding in the bush

Beside our porch.

Born in the spring,

Finally twirping a song to sing.

We hold each other’s hand

At sunset.

Creaking in time, swaying along

In our old weathered swing.


Posted by on August 9, 2015 in Getting Old, Love, Nature, thoughts


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Melting A Dandelion’s Heart

               The lawn was mowed. But she,

                              the dandelion, takes center stage.

                                             The bee’s first nectar of spring,

Bright yellow color and sturdy display;

Stubborn and brave.


Flowering  delicate silver seeds

               Embraced by the breeze, sends her offsprings

                              High into the air, without argument, to land in-between

Blades of grass, hiding in the green of night,

To grow in the bright of day.


Not so stubborn and still very brave.


I lean against her slender body,

               After dismounting my cricket,

                              Allowing me her shade.

I tune his wings, as she bends ever so slightly

To listen to our serenade.


Not so stubborn, trustingly brave.


Posted by on August 2, 2015 in Love, Poetry


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Sophie’s Birthday Haiku(s) …An Age of Grace

“A piece of green pepper
off the wooden salad bowl:
so what?”
     Richard Brautigan’s  Haiku Ambulance’


water in a bottle

from the spring through clean pipes

leading to the pond.


a yellow daisy

she loves me she loves me not

pluck the Sacred Crop.


a yellow daisy

a monk’s  bowl haircut of brown

yellow petals shorn.


Daisy fror WP

darkness on the pond

silhouette closing temples

white in morning sun.

waterlily WP





It is a short path

through the woods on my way home

sun shines on my door.



Posted by on July 19, 2015 in Friendship, Haiku, Love, New light/New life, Poetry, Zen


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