Skinny Dipping Winter

IMG_8063Here’s the 8th installment of winter Haikus. My goal: a total of 107 Forest Haikus and mini ‘coyote’ poems over the winter, sharing in groups of about 10. (See the others: Fiddlehead Fern Plays an Early Note, Cricket’s Eye Point-of-View, Being Stalked By A Forest, Wings Like Boomerangs, My Tent is Leaking Haikus, Always Coming and Going, and Dancing Naked In the Rain)

River flowing fast
taking winter into spring:
done hibernating

Sweet purple fragrance
Oh, I wanna be a bee
kiss all your blossoms

I can really breathe
in this circle of giants—
a deep in and out

The form of each thing
unfurling fearlessly
like forest fern fronds

Head in the water
your duck tail feathers up—
searching for something

Two kids on one bank
me on the other, shouting
“Hey you over there!”

Shimmering duck heads
good day for a skinny dip—
they don’t seem to mind

A muffled morning
melancholy mist moves through—
only crows are up

Clothes dry on drift wood
along the American
the land of the free

A great blue heron
stands still in watery dusk—
sees his reflection

Egret to the east
Naked man in the middle
Heron to the west


That Hour Is Not Today

IMG_7507Winter arrives with an ocean
on my head–
a good time to hibernate
and maybe get lonely and despair
of the horrors of the world
my own losses and wasted hours…

But I can’t seem to do it.

That’s just an idea I have–
just the worst hibernator ever!

Besides, the golden birds are out
singing the drizzle delight
beside a creek that’s chirping
and the soft lichen and baby mushrooms
keep me occupied with warm conversations.

Neruda sang odes to bees
and even his own suit
and laziness.

So certainly I can summon
a sonnet for a day such as this.

That hour of shadows will come
and the missing-ness of things
will hum a melancholy tune
with a moist eye–
but that hour is not today.

Eyes of Dawn and Dew

dew drop eyesWho closed your morning eyes
your eyes of dawn and dew?
Irises once bold and bright
have lost their lustrous hue

Once you loved the rainbow show
and felt that windy song
then you drank the grey-blue sea
and your gaze drifted on

Was it that grey bird of prey, they say,
who feasted upon your sight?
Or was it she, the heavy, weary thing,
that rides you through the night?

I’ve heard a tale of fancy
I don’t know if it’s truth or lie
of water running pure and fine
that’ll heal such wounded eyes

It’s found beyond the rush and roar
in the Nearby Faraway
amidst a grove of sacred trees
it flows there every day

they say to dip your eyes right in,
wash your head in waters cold
and if you’re bold enough, get in
and dunk your dusty soul

You eyes of dawn and dew return
their colors will resurrect
your morning eyes will brightly burn
one of many effects

but most of all, what happens next
a mystery at its best,
behind the breastbone, beneath the eyes
a brilliance builds its nest

Can one believe such a fable?
it sounds too good to be true
but just in case, seek the place
perhaps it will be proved



Fall Away

c244ac380594f873912364f47ef5f1d7--autumn-leaves-autumn-fall (1)In a world struggling desperately to find some semblance of balance and to integrate the shadows, may we receive the blessings of the Fall Equinox. 🍃🍂

Hover here for a moment
feeling the balance
between darkness and light
between drawing within
and explosive expression

harvest your juicy
sun-soaked fruits
perhaps too easily procured

honor the growing shadow
it’s okay to grieve
the dry and dying

relish the transition
and let the leaves no longer needed
flitter to the floor
limbs to feel
all the more lighter

Beautiful Commotion

lakeCan I be as still as this lake
mirroring the rising sun
the cloud parade
the stoic granite face
with a beard of pine
and water-streaked cheeks?

I try
but now, just as it is whispering,
“See all what you have together”
my skin heats up
along with the 1001 desires
of a world not content
merely to be still

the Great Stirring commences:

ducks splash
dragonflies buzz
the fat bird drinks
frogs plop
the Nutcracker croaks

and I, once a mirror of the mirror,
birth words on my tongue
and a longing in my muscles
to move and join
the beautiful commotion
and make my own ripple

Beyond Sight

sequoia-sempervirens-aptos-blue-barkI love you
and the way you see
the world

but I feel more
without you

the soft and the hard of it
the hot and the cold of it
the up and the down of it
the sweet and the bitter of it

the prickly


cushy of it all

I rely too much
on your vision of things

so from now on
I will take the delicate hands
of your blind
but sensible siblings
to help guide me through
this wilderness