Ahhhh. Spring rain, and nature's muse.

forsythia
behind her tresses veil
the muse
 

__In my comments, 'tis time I step back to fewer words; definitions as chosen by the reader, can often differ from those of a scribe... who intends no insults.  _m

Few words
often say more
than too many to count,
and in colloquial clamor
misread.
 

__Here, the bogs are encircled by forests that offer interesting evening concertos from the "Peepers.". _m

above this haze
tree frogs are counting stars
cranberry bogs

__Have you ever tripped over your own shadow_?  No_?   Well, I'd never thought as such... but_.  Smiles_!

moonlight walk
as I trip on my shadow
an owl laughs

__This was an echo / comment, I had left at Franks good blog, listed to the right. When you visit there, you'll see its inspiration... and  'parallel.'  >4/13/2915<   _m

ideas not used
clutter the mind's closet
spring cleaning

__This is an old haiku 'echo' I left as a comment on Nora Wood's blog, many years ago. Her blog, listed here as -Haiku a Day-, has long been inactive.

bird song
from this egg's crack
sunrise
 

Departure 19

__A re-visit; this was originally posted here, on March 24th of 2011. It was a reminder of awaiting the arrival of summer, and was originally scribbled during that wait of (circa) 1975.

Then and Now

Hours were longer, and in
Wishing for the day.
A child slept through
Bleaker nights,
Awakening to
Bluer skies where
Birds curled higher
Above greener trees,
Fields were broader
Hills taller,
Brooks deeper, and
Cleaner winds blew
Through darker forests:
Tomorrows were the
Next steps along
Secret paths that
Led to unknown
Places, where
Thickets of fatter
Raspberries waited.
And the
Sun rained down
To pull the earth
Through greening
Stems... into brighter
Flowers.

The child saw these things
Then... and now,
In the sculpture of memory.
_m