these shadows
cross the ponds creaking ice
snow fall

Freshly filled with sunflower seeds.


a duel
this red squirrel spars the gray
bird feeder

Recycled thought, haibun of a sort.

__I am the splash that missed the funnel's gaping mouth; free, and not locked in this bottle of someone else's preset dreams, I trickle down this bottle's glassn' side and evaporate into... my own adventure.

a free drop
travels its chosen path
this bird flys

Some open water there, as the brook leaves this pond on its run to the sea.


light snow...
before the far shore pines
this lonely swan

Friends, you know the old saying: "Here one minute, gone the ne


pale stars
my silent schooner sails
a weak wind

From last summer, a warm afternoon... .


tiger swollowtail
floats with this old sun's breeze
silent flowers

__I've often referred to myself as an inwardly pedantic 'Contrary.' Pessoa once said: I'm not thirsty, pour me another drink.
__Oh... I don't consider myself a Pessoa parallel, I can only understand. His statue, in Lisbon.


wordly pigeons
rest at Pessoa's fingers
this bronze

__Nora, we wish a very special and Happy Birthday! D and K.

common
this day of birth
when murmurs soft sounds
pass through this noisy air of life's
moments

Last night.

a candle
hides this night's darkness
the tea steams

__Welcome my friends! Now, let us step back several months into that "other season," and out of this cold and snow! Ahh-haa, instead, shall we all just step forward?


warm light...
in scents of pine and lilac
this rose

__This brook flows into Cape Cod Bay. At high tide its "slow-flow pools" will ice over, and standing above that thin ice, the heads of this brook pool's stones can be seen.
__When the Bay's tide lowers the pool's water level follows; as the thin ice breaks away, around each stone remains a halo of ice... glimmering in the morning sun.
__The cycle will renew.

headwater pool
ice halos this naked stone
the tide rises