clouds have their own ways

individual clouds have their own ways

some, misty and delicate, float; some puff up as though

with laughter and good will

some, blushing blue, sprinkle rain; some pound the earth with deluge

a few gather discontented, angry friends and fellow haters

to dance themselves into spinning frenzy

creating pain and havoc

mostly on those who had nothing to do with whatever triggered

that cloud’s dismay

haikus this odd april

haikus in this odd april

osprey nest abandoned/ pair had nestled over eggs/ driven out by fierce cold

do does remember/ harsh winter or teach their young/ to hunt by instinct

do ducks know numbers/ how to count the trail of duckling/ mourn the one missing

distorting to delight

ribbons of water cascading appear as glass columns

shift-shaping greens seen through them

to fantastical beings, fairy-like, intriguing

drawing me to remember my delight in this world

before i thought i knew everything

red sky in the morning

smoky red sky to the northeast

as though the mighty Columbia were hosting wildfires

but it is only – i hope – dawn

we’ve had fire near often enough in the past few years

to be wary of more and compassionate

towards all who suffer terror and loss and fire danger

how i learned to swim

how i learned to swim

 rafters on wood deck over sealed, empty metal drums

in the frolicking waves of Lake Erie off Kelleys Island

uncles threw me in; now row away from me

as i doggy-paddle, laughing

knowing they’d risk their lives

to keep me from harm

regal dawn

dawn fog lingering

in the valley

wraps itself in purple tints

to watch storm clouds

sundered by rolling gold

of the day’s arrival

emerge

(a pantoum)

emerge

a pantoum

emerge

darkness to light

out of shadow

fight for existence

darkness to light

will to live

fight for existence

harbinger of hope

fight for existence

out of the shadow

harbinger of hope

emerge

bouncing rain

as though each cloud had a separate mind

individual ideas of what the climate should bestow

the drops are flat and then elongated

become this minute hard and bounce

off pavement, windshield

the wipers only add to the confusion

of an april afternoon of this oddest spring

tribute to our bill stafford

tribute to our Bill Stafford

a man of the earth finding joy in hummingbirds

and fulfillment teaching grandchildren

a man who painted and drew wildlife into his world

a man of words, words twisted into puns

a man of laughter

a man of the earth

haiku 4/15/2022

 my world ice-slathered

tinted by night-indigo

awaits dawn and hope

true palette

what if we could convince the purples that the blues

that are not trying to steal the chroma, the vibrant pigment which is the joy

of themselves or the vivacity of what they have drawn life

but that powers that want, for their own wealth in being,

disharmonies to remain as they are

perpetuate ancient lies so the fear of ‘not enough’ fuels ‘I better get mine’

what if the truth of abundance were to tinge pale hues , allowing

purples, blues, greens, oranges–all to recognize themselves

as vital, nuanced shades of the whole palette of beauty

haiku april ninth

sunshine not always

warmth as on spring days testing

winter or summer

laughing at Nature

i chuckle at how the bobcat cub saunters

through my back yard as though it were his

though he never offers to split the property tax bill

but my amusement is short-lived as i remember

Mother Nature’s taxes are matters

of life and death

haiku

that which we allow

pulls at our dreative core

taxing what is best

osprey spring

osprey male alone, perched atop their pole

waiting, spying, swooping

lifting to refine their nest from years ago, waiting

and now she’s come, his mate

the nest their focus, with joy times smuggled

speaking softly their language of love and devotion

before demanding chicks

take up their summer days in feeding and protecting

a pair, a team vital, to each other

and to the survival of the osprey race

seeds of cosmos

farmer friends sent seeds from their last year’s

cosmos flowers

in thank you for small gifts for their wedding

cosmos are so lovely, pink and white, delicate

lacy leaves as fragile as love

as enduring as devotion

despite

her wondrous laughter

telling of family gathering

honoring their loss

befriend us

rare the times when we are gentle with ourselves

seeing each other as worthy or respect and forgiveness

we seldom admit we, too, may be given

the honor of being seen for who we are

croaking of spring

unsung, it struggles early

to lift through soil, mulch of dead leaves

glistening frost to prick at winter

with slender green point

which pushes itself upright

unfolds as yellow, pink or purple-blue

crocus

unknowing

unknowing

how much we don’t know we don’t know

how frightening to get caught up

in situations that assume we understand

but we do not

blessed are those who have friends

or loved ones near to help us learn

what is needful