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dawn steals the velvet
dawn steals the velvet of night
so slowly claiming sun’s paling
of the sky to silhouette tall pines
and etch distant hills onto the horizon
your part in your imprisonment
feeling helpless feeds
the power of the deceiver
who cares nothing for your pain
moods of early February’s sky
moods of early February’s sky
winter, watercolor sky surrounds
my seventh floor apartment
giving me perspective beyond
residential rooftops now glittering
frost and the west hills of the city
glistening in patches of white
gray-blue demanding that i find
my paints in unopened boxes and
attempt to capture on rough paper
the moods of early February’s sky
and distant, evergreen hills
piercing the sky
elongated, fluttering arrow point
after arrow point nearly-continuous
flying south in the hundreds
now that western Oregon is convinced
that snow, sleet and ice will soon
overtake this so-far-mild winter
late start but coming
haiku
chill plus rain tonight
sleet and snow in the offing
January winter
learning to say no
rather than feel
resentment
i need to say no
i am here because i have
needs i can no longer
handle on my own
i have so little left
to help others
i must say no
to what you ask
and even demand
of me, take it
as you will
not like it used to be
snow up to ten inches
in Florida
below freezing but no rain
or snow in western Oregon
bright sunlight sparkling
off Cascade peaks
was weather ever “normal”
or is every season “not
like it used to be when
I was a kid”?
mixed blessing
for ubiquitous service to humanity
electricity’s motors, fans, engines
rightly claim kudos for our comfort
but how much of Nature’s
whispered music is muffled and lost?
for our presumed safety from attack
night lights, streetlights, guard lights
leaks upward toward the night sky
blanching our view of the beauty of stars
our awareness of galaxies, vast distance
and time
purple blanket
disconsolate, dark purple
blanket of cloud even-bottomed
as though sliced by chainsaw
ominous work of man
now grappled in its southeast vulnerability
by sunrise rays of ginger
and burnishing gold
as only mother nature can fling
off night clothes to welcome
the new day
so sorry, so late
red light blinking behind me
i hurried to turn into the garage
to get out of the ambulance’s way
and missed that it stopped
at the doorway of our building
and only learned at supper
that it had come for me friend
who had fallen
highlighting Hood
haiku
yellow-orange sunrise
quickly pale gray-gold mat sky
silhouettes Mt. Hood
Depot Bay at high tide
mad, wind-whipped waves cleaved
to foam by jagged lava rock
rammed through clefts, now blowholes
to fountain as towering vertical spray
or thrashed, unable to escape
from between layers of rock,
before the next wave churns the milky foam
into congealed white curds
fog dispersal
haiku
whispers strewn by fog
over mist-swallowed friendships
diffuse understanding
decisions by the elderly
how to know when heart
and head are tangled within
grief guilt and longing
dream twelve years later
dream of waiting for my husband
to drive home in his huge log truck
so real, the worry, the longing
to hold him safe
but when he came a great niece
and her husband came so he needed
to tend to them and our moment
put aside, but he saw my smile