Friday, November 4, 2016


I wrote eight haiku
at different times of day
and over two weeks.

No pigeon chortles
this Indian Summer dawn.
Garbage trucks Rattle.

Instead of bird song
three clocks tick-tock, and one chimes.
Manhattan Monday.

Afternoon turning
to jackhammers and sirens.
Noisy slide to night.

It's dark of the moon
between midnight and sunrise..
Beings are silent.

On the verge of storm
grayness proves a perfect ground.
Photographs taken. 

Follow your spirit
gently leading through the fog.
Life is infinite.

Yet,  only finite,
my body shivers today.
Winter approaches.

Now I lay me down
remembering like a child.
Sleep is my Mother.
All the while our National elections, Standing Rock, the global wars, the wounded world, friends joys and sorrows raged on. The internet crackled with opinion, sun and moon rose and set 'till Halloween arrived 'Blessed be'.


Mo Crow said...

thank you for your poetic view from the Big Apple

Nancy said...

Thank you for the gift of your words. #2 & #5 really spoke to me. I love the first pic of your table...and the last one too! So many treasures to see :)

Judy Martin said...

I love this post. Connecting your poetic self with your poetic space for us - giving us a reprieve and a visit with you. Thank you very much. xoxoxo