__ Ideas are dust; we all, will weave our dust. _m

the dust
afloat on histories breeze
ideas ravel 

__ This is an ancient legend of the Wampanoags along the shores of Lake Assawampsett, as it now edges Middleborough Ma..  Assawampsett, is that Lake of the White Stones, and the moon of leaves is June; Mon-do-min... Maize, that fruit of life. _m

moon of leaves
this lake of white stones
mon-do-min 

__ From that time when I was young, and through the span of each year since, these purple blossoms have always enlightened the arrivals of our deeper Spring; these fresh blooms are the Sash of Summer's Graduation. _m

lilacs bloom 
in natures given time
seasons sash

__ Added, as we all count our time, this positional re-write of  my comment left at a friend's blog.

time mountain
seconds to moments that climb 
the summit 

The bows of boughs, spilled out that rain_.

__  Lately, so much rain here;  this post,  just moments ago,  was an old scribble in one of my notebooks.  Memories.  _m

daffodils  

their trumpets fill with rain

soft bows 

__ Yellow is yellow, this, an adjusted re-post of mine from April of 2007:  the gladdening view of  "natural changes, that remain unchanged".  _m

goldfinches
in this morning sun
forsythia 

__ Its that time, as our seasonal changes continue; 'tis so exciting to sense and see natures soft and shining growth. Here, a slight re-write of a haiku that I posted ten years ago.  Smiles! _m

greening foothills
as their life begins anew
the same bluejays

Nature's time.
__ We never overlook this time in which we live. Testing,  each day as it is, we build our  stone walls of memory, and since our time is not the time of others, we choose patient steps. _m

as cardinals
praise this warming sun
an owl 

Anticipation. 

__ With each days glance at our sun's new clock, a growing warmth.  _m

growing days

snow slides off those swollen buds

our suns clock

__ This is from old scribble notes of 2005.  (the idea puddles,  from old thoughts rain?) 
__ Rain is old, and forever; the dove sees its reflection in that fresh puddle... beak, to beak.

in old rain
this dove kisses itself
fresh puddle

__ This was my first post, Friday, February 13th, 2009;  during February of each year I often re-post... to renew, and restart. Smiles! _m

snow fills
this cabins shattered bones
broken tea cup

__ Just a dream... greening time. _m

ice filled night
stars seed a thought of flowers
the green

__ Politicians in fearful fights for themselves, as the gains for  humanity are ignored... and lost.

__ At noon two hounds fight, yet under the moon they become a team, and tree a raccoon.  Again they fight, each hound fearing the other will run away with their prize. 
__ The raccoon escapes.  

strained music 
of this stolen harmony
lost deeds

__ Sun, shadows, wind: a triangle that creates such quickly changing visions. _m

snow swirls
images of these winded flights 
kaleidoscope 

The wings' shadows thankfully respond, as they wave back and upward to their creators; the birds travel onward.  _m

as birds fly
across this iced ponds sunset
shadows wave

When facing any or all of our many failures, there is always another step to be taken! Smiles. _m 

first coffee
beyond this broken shoelace 
my loafers

This brook flows into our ocean's bay. 
__ During high tide, and due to the loss of that brook's flow, its pools will rise. In winter nights, sheets of ice top every pool and cling to each stone's girth, as those stones reach above that pool's water level.  Later, the outgoing tide drains some depth as that thin ice breaks away to sail toward the sea, by the surge of each pool's rush and flow. Halos of ice remain, clinging to the waist of every standing stone. 
__ Again, the tides will rise. _m

headwater pool
ice halos this naked stone
the tide rises

Best wishes to you all! 
__ This was previously posted during the Christmas season of 2009. We continue to look back, into family times. _m

this lost voice
questions in black and white
photo album

__Watch the lighter snow as it clings and enhances; often, such a momentary sight. _m

off shore breeze
pine trees sift this early snow
branches dress

__ This, a minor rewrite of that inspired by Ashi's blog, and left at Ashi's blog a few days ago. Thanks Jens! _m

memories
the steps beyond times painting
todays brush 

__ Seasons trading places, but for one moment the squirrels stretch out on empty branches and absorb the warm. _m

leafless branches
as squirrels seek this suns warmth
a north wind

Friends, I wish you all, a fun-filled and happy Halloween_!
__ I certainly require much more... than my comb.

morning mirror
alarmed by last night's mask
my comb 

__ After each forest's Autumn diet, Winter soon arrives;  thereafter, those trees find Spring and regain their Summer ounces, Each season's smile! _m

season's diet
trees loose some weight
leaf by leaf

A child's smile, always gives us light. 
__  Here the inspiration seen in line two, was from Devica's blog; simple words have and will further create, different feelings. _m

candle flame
for the hours dark and dull
a child's smile

__ Today, in some ISTD terms, our love's dance. Happy anniversary Kathy; this our 37th, happy and pleasurable year(s)... that have so quickly passed, but will never be lost... our years of love and friendship! 

our waltz
through these years
quickstep 

__ Friends, I had stepped aside for a while, this a very busy and complicated summer for my wife Kathy and I; no serious difficulties, we just sought to do all we could, within our "Activity Clock".  I had visited some, posted none, now... back for fun!
__ This, from one of my scribble books (10/03/04)...  a spider clung to that fallen leaf, and sailed that brook downward to the sea. 
 _m

red leaf sails
this out brook to the sea
captain spider

__ Not often do I submit, and when I do 'tis very little. This, a "recent decline" of a long ago submission, had been returned to me. I simply write for myself with hope, that a few others may see... imagine, and relate. 

__ Night snow collected on that Mountain Laurel, in small patches that seemed in that morning's sun, as blossoms on its limbs. 

mountain laurel

blossoms in this morning sun
night snow  

__ Now, a minimal rewrite of this haiku, first seen at the site >Haikuniverse< on March 16th of this year. Such grand and busy birds, these "hawks of nectar." _m

hummingbirds

discuss this flower garden

house cats wish 

__ Too, ships at sail all navigate their return;  "Homeport." _m

vessels sail
to leave a lonely berth
homeport 

__The peaceful sounds of night, as we looked out over our sea. The sight of that quarter moon, seeming it was a spinnaker filled with the night winds and songs; tomorrow was at the helm.


earth compass
as the moonsail finds its course
the owl's chart
while crickets count the stars
life's helm

This thought was generated long ago by reading Howard Russell's book, "Indian New England Before the Mayflower."
__ According to this legend of Assawompset Pond and the Wampanoag people, Maize first grew at the grave of Mon-do-min. Mon-do-min, an old warrior, needed a small meal to remain alive. But Mon-do-min gave his meal to a dying woman, that meal would save her life. Thus, Maize was forever to be named... Mon-do-min.

mon-do-min
from this moon of leaves
nature lives

Thoughts are levers, the spoons that stir our dreams.

each moment 

a spoon that stirs our dreams

sip the now

To and fro.  As tides return, we flow forward; summer days. 

the tides
within their flow 
closer sun

__ Massachusetts National Cemetery, Bourne MA;  in time's Memorial Day march, the flags stand.

soldiers stand
memories within these stones
the flags 

__ An invented response to a friend's post, some might consider it crude, but 'tis "nature's mark" of  "ownership,"  and less crude than that seen on the internet, or on TV,  the stage, movies, or in some photos of  "Celebrities."  
__ Too, this old dog has left his "nature's mark",  its "ownership" of the new car. Smiles! _m

the old dog
fully inspects this new car 
a wet tire

__ So often, within the sane endings of nature... new beginnings are given.

reddened salmon
swim upstream to their end
the beginnings

__ Of course my bookcase is of that old tree, and within that honored harvest it holds the sound of words. _m

that old tree
fell into my bookcase
word sounds

__ In our world, we must never overlook the importance of gracious motherhood, with love to those who have well-guided us all;  I touch her photo and silently I wish and say, Happy Mother's Day, Mom_!

heartful smile
shown by her final photo
I touch

__ Enthralled.  On one tree, its branches may be uncountable.  I cannot imagine that total count of leaves;  stars of the trees, in this forest deep.  _m

deep forest
on countless branches
the leaves

__ New glasses enhance this truer vision; counting wrinkles.   A slight rewrite.
_m

new glasses
conquer yesterday's blur
mirror  wrinkles 

__ With each silent drop that strikes its brass, the eyes' senses may imagine the sound of that bell.  Smiles.
_m

closer sun
melts away this lingered snow 
a brass bell

__ Continuing to positively look forward we wish spring would arrive more quickly, as the housecats wish beyond the window glass.  A slight change to this seasonal look forward, recently seen at the Haikuniverse site.  

humming birds 
discuss this flower garden
housecats wish

__ Power has returned -again-, this... the second power outage since March began. Now, we think positive as we peer forward into the change.  

__ Here,  a slight 'change' to the comment I left at Isabella's nifty artistic blog, Veredit.  A visit there, it would be worth your while.   _m

dark seeds

pulled upward by the sun

rose portraits

__ We had huddled in those recent severe winter storm winds, and we've cuddled through the heat losses, then stepped forward to face the severe weather dilemmas without "whining" as some have done.  Kathy and I overcame that discomfort;  but wait, I must admit that "K" and I did_ "wine" somewhat_! Smiles.      _m

snow charges
from storm stressed trees
natures turbine

__ Preparing for the next Green Season, my Hungarian grandmother's preparations were the promises, as she referred to them, of tomorrow's garden, winter kept in her Mason jars. Those promises were never broken. Smiles. _m 

seeds promise
in her mason jars
spring 

__ Hazardous  journeys,  and the 'politics' of reaching that needed harbor; each side needs to tack.  _m

port to starboard 
sailing against the storm
tack on tack

__ Previous snowfall and on this ground's new blanket, tree branches pen their words; the authors.

noon sun
trees write as they feel
shadow words

_m

__ That evil number shan't consume us, or our time.  The clock tick, most near that vile number is  >6:59<  but it soon steps onward to...  seven  of the clock, that "Lucky Number!"
__ That "Lucky Number," blocks the dire devil digits, and if we attack, and subtract this "Lucky Number Seven" from that Satanic 666, what do we suppose our numerical remainder will be?   >?<

time's path
with each new tick of life
a symbol  
_m

__ Happy Birthday Nora!   Best Wishes from  D and K. 
__ Stepping aside for a while folks, see you soon. _m

new light
of this inner warmth
times sun

__ A re-write from long ago, this comfort we still absorbed during yesterday's eve.  _m

a candle
hiding darkness
the tea kettle

Happy New Year!
__  As we look into our new year with promising views, our positive attitudes must always choose that new shovel. 

year's change
aged snow on the walkway
a new shovel

__ Each holiday season,  we look through both tears and smiles to our families of the past... that have given us... today. This was first seen on December 17th, 2oo9;  K and I,  offer our best holiday and seasonal wishes_ to you all !  _m

this lost voice
questions in black and white
photo album

__ A recent post by Jens at his Ashi blog, and within my night-sight memories, this imagined sight was generated.
__ The spinnaker:  a quarter moon as it sails across the night's sea, filled with the wind of stars. _m

night sea
the moon sail fills with stars
spinnaker 

__ Earlier this fall, the roving deer... one took a sip from the cranberry bog's water. Such a soft thing to watch, these calm and wandering deer.

three deer
circle this flooded bog
a sip

__ As colors change, then turn to rust, the leaves travel back to nature's source; we will see them again, when they feed the greens of nature's freshened summers. _m

winds rise
as these rusted leaves travel
their time

Coming soon.
__ Coastal river pools are subject to nature, and will ice over during  freezing nights at high tide.  When the tide recedes, a ring of ice clings to that stone and waits for the tide to rise again.  _m

river ice
halos a lonely stone
rising tide

__ The ghouls,  a repost from October of 2009;  one year later, a candle.  Smiles, and Boooo!


ghouls and goblins
rap rap rapping at my door
moonlight 

a candle
shows this pumpkins smile
the harvest

I thank you John!  This was a comment I recently left at John's good blog, Zen Speug.

arched fingers
dance across the ivories
pianissimo 

 Each day, we navigate along the night dream's river... to a different sea.   _m

the dream 
our chartway to further seas 
night rivers

'Tis that time, the seasonal colors change.

season leaves
within this revolving breeze
auburn whispers 

__ Kathy and I hold this day, as we do all of our days, deeply important:  October third,  1981.

thirty six years
of truth filled with happiness
we are 

__ As the days grow short, "short-day rivers" float these travelers, toward their unknown. 

red leaves
find their path to the sea
travelers

__ What happened long ago,  may now become a more savory memory.  _m

time's still
brews tomorrow's memory
a scent of wine 

__ As seasons change, sitting in a warm and sunny breeze.  Just a thought.

ten of hearts
lost in the fallen leaves
solitaire  

__ A minor rewrite of my comment at Adelaide's good blog, White Petals.

Dirty,
as fingernails
scrape room for these new seeds,
fresh blooms give rise to our new gifts;
blossoms.  

__ The first wash, then air dried; the rubbing knees? Woost, woost, wersht? 

fast walk
knees discuss this path
new jeans

Hello friends!

__  Two of last night's scribbles. Water, the lifeline.  Storm clouds are the sails; the crooked mast, a lightning strike. Oh... and yes, the 'boom' that circles the sail's mast, is thunder. Smiles! _m

as rivers
bleed into the seas
life flows

storm sails 
above this ocean 
crooked mast 

__ The glistening orange jewels, enhance the pure white blooms.

the gem
on Queen Anne's Lace
ladybug 
           

Happy August!    

__ We still enjoy communing with friends around the campfires, and the warm conversations that are part of those fires. This, a minor re-write of my post as seen on 8/1/2010.  _m

at sunset
just a few words away
the campfire 

       Time teases; while summer shrinks, we leap into each new day. _m

birds watch
as winds rake the grass
crickets shrug 

__ This, an edit of an instant's Cinquain comment I left at Gillena's nifty blog, Lunch Break, as listed in my blog list. Yes, hear is hear as we may hear... the hammering waves;  the sands return. _m

The seas
grind stone to sand
with years of hammered waves
then move its toil from hear, to there,
to here.  

__ The echo's return... undecided.

from this cave
as water drips in time
more echoes

__ Truth is seen in the change of form; silence speaks, and it may be time.

tiger lilies 
as life steps forward
midyear pace

__ Days rest. These sips... as the bell tolls.  _m

crow caw 
while this day bell chimes
a wine glass

___ The luck... of being.

life's clock
a garble of morning birds
sunrise

__ So happy to see these wildflowers,  this warm season's introduction.  First  penciled  during  June,  of  2006. 

in silence
they walk among the trees
lady slippers  

___ As the sun sets beyond the greened  horizon, we can imagine it would say:  "See you all tomorrow." _m

at sunset
this day lantern hides
green hills

__ Some of that book-trophy's value, is in the search. 

estate sale
in this dusty library
a trophy

__ This, my minor rewrite of a comment left long ago at -Drops of Ink- July of 2016:  'tis a wonder,  that which can be found within the crusts.  _m

the brain
becomes each story's oven
this pie

__ As we strolled  through the graveyard,  a rabbit kit watched our steps... quietly.

on this stone
our names not yet etched
the kits eyes   

__ In their motionless poses, the Great Blue Herons become eye and mind magnets. This was a comment I left at the 'Lisa R' blog.  

great blue
in this silent pose
a sketch

__  Each season, has its own poet.

times circle
where its words meet
the lilacs

__ May, is the  "Flower Moon,"  and it seems April is called  "The Pink Moon."   But, I'll continue to name each April moon, -The  Moon of Leaves-.

moon of leaves
calls to the green
an owl

__ At the day's close, relaxed sips.   _m

tea kettle
a song in the nights dark
candle flame

__ Once seen in Wareham, a shred of newspaper flown by the onshore winds; the -black and white- of its headline print, brought thoughts of a Herring Gull. 

newspaper shred
flies through this onshore wind
a herring gull

__ At the age of fifteen, one of the many things I didn't know was... how little I'd know... when I reached the age of seventy-five. " The shadow knows_!"  _m

back arched
this kitten threatens its foe
shadow's hiss

__ The sight of time within a forest walk, and too, your imagination may hear yesterday.

stone walls
in paintings of gathered years
moss time

With happy smiles for my friend and Sister-in-Law.

morning coffee
snowfall filled my flip-flops
another cup

__ Frogs, hidden among the shoreline green; at our pond, from one of my scribble books during June, 2013. _m

shoreline
as night frogs debate the day
this ponds choir 

__ Tomorrow is now; the river flows. _m

water wheel
ideas from times river
todays mill

__  Tennis, a journalistic simile? Should I have used the word lays, instead of lies?  _m

tennis match
truth lies within the lines
backspin 

__ We watched that night pond; as a Swan paddled by, the stars' reflections danced in her wake.     5/22/2013

a swan swirls
upon this silent pond
the stars dance

__ Snowball, it was said by Napoleon, was the single cause of all  "Animal Farm" failures. Timely disclosure of truths are accomplished... by the balance of common senses.

today's truths
rise above past lies
senses  

__ Very odd to hear thunder and see lightning during a snow storm, today was that rarity. Perhaps 'twas political confrontations among the 'flakes' as their ideals clashed?

flakes dispute
in thunderous snowfall
crossing winds

Kathy and I, during an evening walk in early Spring:  2013.

We are, at home. 
__ An evening stroll at pondside with walking sticks at hand;
we speak in silent glances. Head nods point to swans an the 
far shore, and our smiles find a Great Blue wading into the
sunset. We see an otter drawing its swim path wake, and a 
raccoon awaiting moonrise. Then, an owl tilted its head our way to 
delve our thoughts, and happily it sensed our good intent. 

natures home
with the sounds of traveled wings
humming birds

__ This "older" cloth is a slight "time edit" to my post of  3-9-2009; another weave.    Smiles.  _m

yarns of memory
woven through these snowy streets
an older cloth
 

__ To allow goodness, set a free but guarded weave.   _m

time's new cloth
goodness lingers in that weave
a loose loom

__ A minimal re-write of my comment at Juliet's "Crafty Green Poet" blog.  One question remains: did I spell caws incorrectly?

politics
their cause about the people
crows debate

__ I expect, the third friend will be a mystery to no one; smiles_!

three friends
this glass of wine
sunset

Friends, please visit 'Veredit' in my blog list to the right, I believe you will enjoy her art.
__ Winter. We always envision the positive. _m

tree songs
in the highest octave
soprano sleet

__ Really, I didn't misspell here. It was morning when I saw these doves, foraging in the light snow under the bird feeder. Smiles_!

light flurry
these four toe footprints
morning doves