gray dawn

haiku

 all business now

no rosy cheeks, day’s blessing

clouds just split for light

gray at four

haiku

gray fog dense at four

dissolving by six lends hope

of bright-hued sunrise

now the times of gray

haiku

now the times of gray

seep into tender pearl green

harbingers of spring

cloud game

haiku

navy tracks of cloud

line sunrise like jet contrails

Nature’s tic tac toe

struggle for dawn

haiku

orange gold vied hours

to emerge among purple

clouds to bring sunrise

edging into winter

haiku

brittle-edged red-orange

erose maple leaf margins

sharp against late fall

stick to it

What is brown and sticky?

A stick

Not for me. My art teacher  in 7th grade

taught me to look closely at the varied

colors in the bark until now i see

no solid brown but streaks of yellow

and bits of hazel, cinnamon, magenta

and purple-gray

seeing such fascinating variations

in the ordinary gives me a running

commentary on life filled with tiny

excitements and joy

i wake up happy

flower-whispered

haiku

flower-whispered love

colors nurture our courage

bid us pray to God

so ready for spring

sunny days with snow-capped peaks

glistening against cerulean sky

rhododendron blossoms eager

to break forth into flushed, glowing

blushing pinks and unnamable whites

so ready for spring

murky morning

haiku

 murky morning with

the valley fog huddling in

tints of greenish gray

sunshine after gray rain

sunshine this morning after gray

days of sudden, intense showers

how dependent we humans are

on that sparkle of warmth and light

for inner joy to give us hope

belief in self

(haiku)

white-speckled petunias

red petals drop cloth-looking

stand tall as if pink  

watercolor storm sky

a watercolor storm sky

of billowing clouds of grays

agonized purple and yellow

tortured by erupting orange

from angry, mottled blues

edging toward precipitating

their slivers of ice and shafts

of slashing rain when placating

winds shift their proximity

allowing sunshine to mediate

the argument to tete-a tetes of spring

pink-gold dawn

haiku

 pink-gold tinting grass

wrapping pigmented glory

of the very air

just before sunrise

haiku

frost-tipped dew whitens

marks grass, twig and leaf edges

clouds dull heavy gray

pink snow

tint of pink light over the snow

like a filmy negligee over bared shoulder as sunrise hints

at change from full moon’s eerie blue-silver cast

i chuckle to remember tiny granddaughter’s declaration

of “pink snow” many springs ago

as we walked among blossoming plum trees

serrate clouds

 serrated clouds

tinged at the edges between banks

of purple with searing white

as though recently severed

and now bloodless

jagged gap already closing

healing from whatever divisive

issue between heavenly beings

            would that man’s divisions

            might reconcile as quickly

pale sky, gem blue Pacific

pale sky, gem blue sea

wisped clouds, rippling with waves

reflecting, refracting light between both

hints of rainbows in crest mists

functioning as in the eons

without the interference of humans

turning livid

 burnished, bruised orange and gold

oozing between layered purple clouds

resting for breath on the eastern horizon

over minutes, climbing, seeping mauves

capturing bluing sky and gray clouds

infuriating them with scarlet

reach to the heavens, livid for needing

to bleed the sunrise into day

gray-blue greeting

gray-blue morning

misted deep sky obscuring stars

chill fingers outside the covers

signs of autumn not coming

            but here