The collective sound
Of rain dripping on the roof
Is like night static
Haikus: July 2008 Archives
The light through windows
Falls muted and soft upon
Our inside spaces
In wilder places
Under the black sequin sky
The night forest hums
Crazy packing rush
Frenzied trips for more supplies
Storm before the calm
The quiet of growth
Is measured with the passage
Of moments in time
Priorities should
Be learned from those who have few
But practice often
If one could eat words
I'd order some Quiescence
In Volitive sauce
Steamed bergamot swirls
With hot briny bacon chews
And browned toast comfort
Over the fence may
Have been greener than the fore
But not anymore
I raise my glass to
The melting pot of Choices
And Idealism
It has polka dots
Of cherry red on sky blue
And lined with sunshine
