Twice a day I check the nest; she senses I am of no harm.


catbird...
I watch her nested young
this trust

__Those that know a little of me, know how enamored I am, by those things left behind; found in my imagination are the stains of the sweat and blood that graced the toil of these people... unknown. __Stonewalls, abandoned foundations, crumbled barns... all, monuments to their builders. _m


stonewalls
these lines of once...
a dove coos

This, as seen in Ambrosia Edition 2.


blue jays clamor
in this noonday sun
the brook's echo

__An abrupt stop, and flashers; the driver, my wife quick to the rescue, carried the turtle across the road to its destination... the pond.


this turtle
plants its yearly seeds
a walk back

__From Milton's Masque 'Comus,' circa 1634, a few of the early lines that seem to fit today's life__ as I had read them:

"Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot
-Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care,
-Confined and pestered in this pinfold here,
-Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
-Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives,"


virtue sought
we frail beings...
a breath

__Home from our pond; this from last night as we sat on the dark deck... and watched the spider's work.


candles
light this darkness
a spider

__I saw, a few days back, this photo-haiku at Devica's blog: "Deserted," was the name of her post.
__It's strange that a link there... had taken me back to the Connecticut town where I had been raised, and a school through which I had passed.



long pathway
follow these slippery stairs
careful steps