Haiku 10 — April 10, 2013

Things start early at our house, well before the sun comes up.
The cats cry to be fed, the pup wants a walk.
Gym clothes are missing. Permission slips need to be signed.

It's Wednesday, right smack-dab in the middle of the week, and we try to wipe the slate clean and call it morning.

Haiku 10

Wednesday rise and shine
with leftover Easter eggs
Each bite a fresh start


Haiku 9 — April 9, 2013

Sometimes when you're in a hurry there's nothing like a little time on the trail to slow you down.
Especially if a caterpillar's in your way.

Haiku 9

Today rushes by
This caterpillar comma
says hold up, slow down


Haiku 8 — April 8, 2013

I get a bad case of poison ivy nearly every spring — and it's usually thanks to my dogs or cats.
They go stomping through the woods, break the tender stalks and leaves, and come home dripping with the toxic oil.
I pet them. Naturally. That's just what I do.

It is hard to maintain suspicion, skepticism, fear or anger on a morning walk but poison ivy doesn't bring out the best in a girl.

Haiku 8

Oh, poison ivy —
fresh and pretty but so mean,
dusting the dog's coat.


Haiku 7 — April 7, 2013

Public art is nothing so much as a concrete expression of hope —
that beauty still matters, even in this mad, mad world…
that we as people can come together around it…
that there is value in pausing and breathing and taking note.

These pretty strings of glass buoys in a canal in Scottsdale said all that to me.

Haiku 7

Glass, light, reflection
punctuate the waterway,
say: pause, stop, wow, why.


Haiku 6 — April 6, 2013

A weekend away is made evermore potent if palm trees are involved.
Don't you think?

Haiku 6

Palm tree as symbol:
Nothing that I have to do
except write haiku