Not Haiku

I don't know about joy, but

fresh air,

green hills with yellow poppies,

turkeys milling by the creek --

I must be close.

3/28

Listening to the rain,
imagining green &
blossoms.

From the window...

From the window—
dark outlines of green trees,
wispy gray fog.

The beauty of seagulls...

The beauty of seagulls—
often obscured by trash and french fries in parking lots—
But here! 
Dots on blue green waves, 
heads tucked into white feathers, 
sleeping circles on brown sand.

Written in Salinas

Expanse of blue--
rows and rows of garlic,
green and fragrant.

More from awhile ago

All the fog!
There's a city back there,
but you'd never know.

-------------

Sub par tacos
and no Horchata!
Cold wind through the open door....
Disappointment mounts
with every bite.

--------------

He hurries down hill,
the red glow of his cigarette
marking his speed.

--------------

Gray green tide creeps in.
The white gull flies away--
now I am alone.

A Tanka & a Senryu

Ugh, this heat!
Everything smells like dust,
even in the shade.
So look up to the green leaves,
the sanctuary of trees.


#tanka

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The loveliest walks
can result in blisters.
Take them anyway.

#senryu (I think!)

I love my neighbors' blackberry bushes.

Thorny green branches - - 
white flowers, but no berries. 
The blackbirds will wait.

- - - - - - - - -

Thorny branches stray 
over the old gray fence - - 
no blackberries yet.

A Sorta Kinda Haiku & a Sorta Kinda Tanka

Night comes, and
those little yellow flowers
have closed up shop.


-------


Tufts of green with
those little yellow flowers,
settled in the cracks
between pieces of gray cement--
and people call them weeds!

Rain on the roof...

Rain on the roof--
perhaps brown branches
will turn green again.

A better version, I think.

O, White Butterfly
in the green water plants,
beware the birds!

Small white butterfly

Small white butterfly,
green water plants --
Beware the heron!

From Last Night

At dusk,
birdsong and warm wind--
and the smell of tacos. 


In the stifling room,
voices talk of freedom,
hope, love... And the heat.


Evergreen trees
shake gently in the breeze,
swaying to birdsong. 

4/9/15

In the gray cell,
her memories turn to
green grass and poppies.

Two Haiku

The old graveyard--
hot sun filters down
through green leaves.

---------------

Little white fingers trace
sculpted grave statues--
filtered sunlight.


As a child, I spent at least part of my summers with my two aunts in Placerville. My favorite aunt, Annie, was very involved with a church very near an old graveyard there.  I would go over there and play, reading the stones, touching the statues, feeling the summer heat even in the shade of the trees. It was a peaceful place, with headstones and statues that were beautiful to me. 

Green rosemary...

Green rosemary,
white butterfly,
Autumn sunshine.

9/1/14

Summer's end?  Not here:
black and white birds fly past
parched grass to a green tree.

Example

You are my braird:
new, leafy green reaching for
blue skies, full of hope.

Rain on the roof is...

Rain on the roof is
the sound of green hills, full streams,
eventual bloom.

Driving along Highway 4

Watching cows graze on
the green hills, I wish I was
vegetarian.