That rush of anger...

That rush of anger
makes sleep impossible.  Aaaannddd...
I'm up at midnight.

Warm breeze circulates...

Warm breeze circulates--
on the path, pebbles and rocks--
my ungainly stride.

Almost a Daily Occurrence

I was all ready 
to meditate, but now I'm
so, SO distracted.

In a dark blue sky...

In a dark blue sky, 
a crescent moon lights the road
as I drive alone.

A bright crescent moon...

A bright crescent moon
is my only company
as I drive alone.

Slogging through the day...

Slogging through the day,
stumbling, bumbling, tired--
despite hot coffee.

Hot sun, iced coffee...

Hot sun, iced coffee,
the smell of small white flowers--
now we can gossip!

A dumb idea...

A dumb idea:
coq au vin and potatoes
on a hot Spring night. 

Fog rolls in, cold, gray...

Fog rolls in, cold, gray,
and damp. Daytime warmth gone now.
Where is my sweater?

Thanks, Everyone!

Thanks, Everyone! 
I've plodded about since lunch, 
spinach in my teeth. 

Perhaps happiness...

Perhaps happiness
is a blueberry donut 
and cup of coffee. 

All out of fat clothes...

All out of fat clothes, 
I eat these vegetables, 
purely out of guilt.

A couple of days...

A couple of days
of warm rays and strawberries
turn to cold Spring rain.

Spring! And two girls kiss!

Spring! And two girls kiss!
Well, actually, 
it's more of a glom.

Hot afternoons...

Hot afternoons,
cold mornings and nights. Alone,
I sip lukewarm tea.

Alone with sadness...

Alone with sadness, 
distractions, and tea, he waits
for the blood moon.

Too angry to sleep...

Too angry to sleep,
too sleepy to dance or fight.
Think of Spring flowers? 

Largest mug in house...

Largest mug in house,
now empty of coffee--
birds sing in sunshine.

Midafternoon heat...

Midafternoon heat--
waving feathers hide turkey's
decaying body.

Basho was fifty...

Basho was fifty.
I'm close, but with no sign of 
genius legacy!

Little songbirds hop...

Little songbirds hop--
cats mesmerized, with flat ears,
sneaking toward the glass.

Gold sawthistles grow...

Gold sawthistles grow
next to glorified sisters.
See? They're pretty too.


Here's a variation:
Unsung sawthistles
grow next to praised cousins on
weedy, verdant hills.

Another Pillow Test Fail

That rush of anger
makes sleep impossible.  Aaaannddd...
I'm up at midnight.

One tree on a hill...

One tree on a hill,
green and alone in a sea
of weeds and flowers.

Clumsily she wrote...

Clumsily she wrote

backwards C’s as a child.

You’d never know now.

Also Based on a True Story!

Green hills, gold poppies
and sawthistle, blue lupine-- 
through tears, all a blur.

Based on a True Story!

I've nothing to grieve,
yet I'm crying anyway.
So embarrassing.