__In silence and with one leg retracted, Gulls stand on their other leg to rest, as shallow as their rest may be. To test the depth of their rest, toss out a bit of that donut in your hand, then you will see and hear...  "The Flock Frolics!"  _m

herring gulls
to their warm breeze doze 
I toss a crumb

This was first posted to this blog, on March 30 2009.
__A mug at the Pub_?

rainy night
old men boast of deeds
never done

the mind
becomes a story's oven
rivers flow
 

__Trees search for spring;   the vast fluctuation of temperatures,  that push-pull,  is the tree sap's  heart. _m

cold to hot
as sap veins fill
red buds

Wow the gas balloons,  just my view of todays political news.  Smiles. _m

gas balloons
rise till they burst
a days news
 

__Seasons change, the birds write. 

as sap flows
stories begin on each branch 
birds write

__The foghorn -sounds in- to help.  _m

lighthouse
slices this deepened haze
the foghorn

Another... 33
__So often, a harmonic recorder quartet.

recorders
gentile breath's fingers create
windsong

a zither
joins this harmony 
soft quintet 

__I am a Student of haiku, of any ten I have written there may be -one- of humble quality. I shall become a Master, when among those ten there are -eleven- worthy of praise.

cardinals
their sun song fills
longer days

__At the feeder, as the days lengthen, spring's taunt. _m

Strange.
__Here, two days ago, it was -10 F  (-23C); today it reached +55 F  (+12C), one wonders.

the climate
minus ten to fifty plus
politics  

I'm a day late with this -overused- yearly post.
__This blog began February 13th of 2009, a lucky Friday,  and this is my initial post. I thank you all my friends_!

snow fills
this cabins shattered bones
a broken tea cup  

__Soon we'll be seeing  the 'home-side' crocuses bursting through what remains of our icy snow, and that... a warming thought.

night snow
below this last icicle
a crocus

__My mind is my antique shop, my porridge  filled with the worthy memories of these valuable trinkets of the past. Trinkets,  that I see as trophies.  _m

antique shop
in this porridge of my mind
old trinkets

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

a free drop
travels its chosen path
the bird flys 

__This is a recent comment left at a site I visit often, Tinywords;  the lantern on that caboose,  is the last viewpoint of this night's train. _m


the last train
leaves a darkened depot
its lantern

__A sound aroused me last night, and my "newly awakened" thought was that, that clamor was the thunder of a summer storm.  Reality quickly recovered,  the thunder was the rumble of a distant snowplow. 

thunder storm
rumbles through this night
snowplows 

Each day another chance,  another turn of the key.

on time
its pendulum still swings
the key 

__On and under the feeders, the snowbirds flit; black birds seem,  as punctuation in the snow.

juncos frolic
in this fresh fallen snow
dashes 

__Each sunrise, an addition to your larder. _m

a new day
adds to the chimes
open diary
 

__Oooo!  Troublesome near and on the Cape; we were home before the problems. I so often think that >snow is a smaller problem< then some of the drivers.  

new snow
floats through this quiet night
train whistle

__This... I left as a comment on a friends blog nearly five years ago, here its a slight re-write.


empty moon
a night sky fills its hollow
the crescent 

To you all, best wishes for a grand family Christmas_!  Today...  the eve of Christmas Eve.
__The family values of Christmas... far exceed the values of commerce.

warm words
the family gathers
eve of Eve
 

__The sunset shadows; this, a slim adjustment made to my imaginational comment I left at Iris's good haiku blog. The number of "S-es" now seems less cumbersome than I first thought. Ssmiless!
_m

sleepy swan
swims across my chest
sunset

Another... 33    A comment I left at Moondust,  her fine poetic blog. 

the sunrays
burn a path through winter
time turns

we have time
gladly shared with each other
the sunrays

__From my scribble book of 11-15-15.

the mind steeps
as does this well aged cider
bubbles rise

__The victims are the Hallowed. The sufferers  and their families are the takers of all such terror_ each a giver of life, and an emblem for whom we must all strive; strongly we seek worldly goodness.  _m


Dry gasp,
this choke of care;
our wrenching tears to the
victims of that primitive rage.
Hallowed.

Hidden thoughts. _m

a final stone
on this forest wall
brown ferns

       And / Or

blooms climb 
to this pyramid's  peak
the first stone
 

A haibun written this spring.

__ This evening's stroll at pond side with our walking sticks at hand; we speak in silent glances. Our nodding heads point to swans on the far side, and our smiles find a Great Blue, slowly wading into this watery sunset. Eyes point to an otter leading its swim path wake, and an owl that awaits the moonrise. A raccoon looking our way, tilts its head.

infants rise
within natures time
eyes value

Trick of Treet! 
__This is a "re-scribble" from my post of October first, during 2014.  We've lit the candle again. Smiles_!

this silly pumpkin
its face of fanticies deep
candle smiles

Hold to your visions and dreams, and they will not evaporate in life's wind.

vision
this instant's wisp
a rain drop

Another... 33
__All Hallows Eve will soon arrive with its mystic and wavering, candle flamed pumpkin eyes... that will search through skies much darker than a crow.   _m

darkened glare
unseen by questioning eyes
pythoness

pumpkin eyes
search this crow dark night
candles flame

__Ideograms. Just moments ago, I left this as a comment at >Zen Speug<,  John McDonald's  good blog. Here, though, some slight adjustments have been made . _m

fallen leaves
symbols of this empty tree
moons shadow

__One thing becomes another;  I am the sand. _m

listless stone
sculptured by the endless tides
this sand

__Last night, as we watched the moon's eclipse,  this thought arose; "the leaf, the moon, the season." _m

one red leaf
settles on this silent pond
an eclipse

__For Jackie's friend; his paw print seen.  D&K

paw print
on his trail of rest
amore

__The greatest profit from your creativity, is humble satisfaction.

your art
in its creativity
sole profit 

__This haiku was an instant's response to Lorraine's post of August 28th,  visit her blog and you'll  not be disappointed.   (that link is to the right... LL)  _m

this bracelet
circles nature's wrist
her bouquet

__Now, this is a rare rewrite I applied to one of my posts that originated during August, 2009; it was our walk around a nearby cranberry bog.

goldenrod
aside this dusty path
bee's sneeze

__In these summer months, often the passing clouds will splatter just to let us know they are there.  Kigo_?  I do not use a Saijiki.    _m

eight drops
from this passing cloud
natures clock

Politicians debate. 
__My guess ?  There is no need to explain the function of that moderator's plastic bag. _m

at a debate
this arbiter's plastic bag
walking the dogs
 

Could the figures below represent,   " Half-tags "_?  Smiles!   _m
//           =         +      

still moth
this nature's trampoline
a spider web

My post here,  of August 17, of 2009.
__A Student says, I have much to learn;
__a Master says, I have learned how little I know.

today
I search the sky and clouds
tomorrow

__We dissect the " I-ism "  shams of the pompous politicians that sound so alike -tick, tock, tick- and we learn as we peer into, and beyond their fogs.  _m

discovery
beyond each clocks tick
the fog

__Each night, the moon and the bats streak across the pond; often the stars dart away... to escape the hunter.    _m

pond bats
hunters in the night
moon streaks

__Ah, this old tree and the stories it might tell.    The ink ?   _m

sap flows
such stories in each branch 
a bird's pen

__The vintner,  a farmer of the vines. This, from October 2012. _m

a season's stews
steep within their casks
vines harvest

__As we grow forward, we often need to shed a little of our past;  our forests' hidden stone walls.  _m

queen anne's lace
beside this forest's stone wall
a snake skin 
 

__A silent wake,  that noiseless link to home;  less is more, it is said.

full sail
on this warmer wind
the silent wake

__ What was in Pandora's Jar_?

kept water
spent on a family's need
the final drops

__ Often,  an effortless nod is all that's needed to affirm appreciation. _m

simple nods
note the faithful views
time's faces

Happy Independence Day_!
__Ahhh, such grins that grow on our children's faces, a sight and sense that we must forever preserve...  as it was.

this night's child
within the smiling eyes
fireworks
 

Watching the storm.

gifts of rain
seed to bud to flower's bloom
humming birds
 

__In  their  season, it seems  they  are  always  'on guard'  along  the  country  roadways,  fence lines,  and  cottage  fronts.   Salute_!  

in their ranks
the tiger lily armies
butterfly wind

Often they flower,  in  such  hidden  places.

sunrise lights
this darkened forest pathway
a lady slipper

Often, a house cat's deepest rival, can be your dust mop

with arched back
a cat strikes its fearless foe 
this dust mop

__Short summer nights;  now,  as  bats forage the night sky (skies?) for sustenance,   is  night  'flies'   a  noun,  or  is  night,  'flies'  an intransitive verb?

shorter dark
the bats check their watches
night flies
 

This haiku, a recent comment at  Gillena's "Lunch Break" blog.  _m
__Happy Father's Day_!  To every Mom and their children, to my wife, my children and grand children, thanks for putting up with us... all these years_!  Smiles_!

warm rain
blurs the trees reflections 
pond side eyes
 

Comment,  left at Zen Speug. (slight edit)   Nature's Opera is... all seasons, thus, senryu.

with hunters
this cast of natures opera
the prey

__ I saw a treadle operated potter's wheel that used the wind as an alternate power source.   The builder's cat dozed on its still spindle, and my imagination quickly spun this into my scribble book.   _m

potters wheel
on its wind driven spindle
the dizzy cat  

Another... 33    Solstice / long day... their kigo; rewritten from old scribbles.

an evening sun
on this stone monument's peak
solstice candle

long day storm
by reading the fallen leaves
a new page
 

__Pompously, I suppose,  I once knew the differences between haiku and senryu, but now it seems there may be no differences;  ignorance then,  has become my acquired indifference.

wild turkeys
at this fern lined pond side
damp breezes

__Often, we  find  the  need  to  steer  a  different  course,  that  finds the calm.   _m

alee

memories tack

to winds of the present

this helm is tomorrow's compass 

life sails 

One Sonnet form, as some would argue against; I scribbled this "Found" and others... long ago.

>Found<

I stand apart, watching through your sorrow,
With tears at the loss of a love begone.
You wander that circle, as you are drawn,
To that lonely search for your tomorrow;
With your heart so full, your mind so fallow,
In your eyes the lost hope of new love's dawn,
You silently stand, as a misplaced pawn.
This a deep search, to forestall your barrow.

With offered touch, another's  lonely goal;
I see her full glean, her deepened mire,
Beyond this surge of her lone desire.
She sends her full heart to your lonely soul,
And in joyful tone,  it sates your fire.
With her song of love, the steeple bells toll.
 

Often,  to explain is pointless; this,  is  a  'stupid / smart'  senryu.  Smiles_!

stupid shopper
walked into this mall's fountain
smart phone

__I, a 'contrary',  am opposed to  -sad-,  the first line letters below. The 'contraries',  as are we all,  simply weigh opposing views  and breath within that balanced realm. _m

smell of green
another sense to life
dreams bloom

__The first day. Theology and all things then began, and that hidden stone held our history through an uncountable time... to the now. Often, small stones are left at grave sites, a marker of the visit; a stone icon that too, speaks of the first day.

hidden stone
such history it has kept
the first day

__I momentarily wander off to another place, and attempt to overlook my mistrust... of my own evaluation.  _m

My eyes search forward
to chart the clear horizon,
I doubt as I see.
A simple goal of my life,
so controlled by my mistrust.

__Every day of every year, families honor their lost members, lives lost by hero soldiers as they supported of our freedom. On Memorial Day, our United Family honors all our heroes lost__ with deep, country wide tribute_!  _m

the memorials
every day of every year
solemn bows

During the daylight, they can be watched for hours.

hump to hump
this measure of the journey
inchworm

This Cinquain is a recent comment posted at Rachel's  blog, with some slight changes. _m

I write,
as I do feel
this turmoil in my mind.
Perhaps by telling with my pen, 
I learn.
 

A bird's perch.
__This was scribbled long ago at a friend's garden, and this is the first post of that haiku.
__Nature, in its complex process of being, cares little of our icons, thus, Nature can seem crude to many eyes.

garden statuette
its cloak well painted blue
white shoulders

Living forward, or is it loving forward_?   Two letters, such little difference. 

the lilacs
as natures hand beckons
a hummingbird  

__A pond-side evening's campfire. This haiku was first seen at W.H.W., on September 16th, 2007,  where and when, John Mcdonald, (blog, Zen Speug) translated this to Scots. I then posted both at this blog on May 12th, 2009, and too, today. I thank you again, John.
 
day's ember
a promise in the rain
doves coo

*** Scots ***

day's aizle
a hecht i the weet
doos croodle

All things grow, with trust.

seed to seed
this year has spent its time
new blossoms

blossom to blossom
seasons grow their given trust
fruit gathers

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

Tanka, perhaps; there is an adjustment in the comments.

snow melt fills this brook
as it roams to the river
broken braches turn
old stones of a long lost bridge
these chapels of frothing foam

__Oh yes, the value of such family stories... as the family circle grows!
Such smiles!  _m.

truth grows
ear to voice to ear  to voice
another chair

__Kathy is one of the greatest  smiles in my life, and today is her birthday! Happy wishes 'Dear Lady'_!  _m


Birthday,
this special time
to me, and for my wife;
each day, as we hold each other,
a joy.

March 13, 2015
__Jack was the husband of Marguerite, the father of seven, the Grandfather and Great Grandfather of many. Jack was the father of my so dear wife Kathy; my Father-in-Law stepped into his peaceful reward as he begun his ninetieth year.
__We will see you again, Jack, and we thank you for your gifts of love and time that you've left with us all. _m

eighty nine steps
across this cloudless sky
a new star

__Fog, the offspring of moisture and temperature, wanders into its own clarity. ** "The child wanders onward," may have been a precurs0r to the March 19th post; it was but three hours before Jack's final breath... .   My tears.**

snow melt
the child wanders onward
evening fog

__That scene in your eye; it channels through your mind and streams out of your hand... to other mind's eyes. The river. 

look beyond
to speak with brush or pen
arts flow

The normal process of nature, may now have begun.  A return to the norm_?  Smiles! _m

rivers fill
as we peer across this snow
crave the green

This haiku 'segment' was posted on my blog in early March, 2009; now I post this as it was written during the previous March of 2008, a complete haibun. _m

__An instant’s power failure; I quickly lit a candle to light my way to the stove where the tea-kettle still whistled but had lost that whoopish howl of immediacy. Walking past the kitchen window, my candle’s flame found a sparkle point on the outer side of that glass. A drop of water lingered there, at the tip of winter’s last icicle. That drop framed the candle’s flame, and as it glittered it drew me into its kingdom. The drop spoke and explained that they, the drop and the flame had joined, and now shared the same terminal point, they were the targets of the same fate. The drop and the flame, the candle and the icicle, as contrary as they were... they were, but one. 

the last icicle

as one drop lingers
a candle's flame 

 

A recent comment/echo at Daniele's good blog >haikud'aile< but with a minor erasure.

my pencil notes
through every scribble book
eraser dust

__The 18th was Ash Wednesday; to you all, a fruitful forty days and too, far beyond. 
... for now. _m

brave search
yore-minds pure forgotten truths
envision

__This blog began on Friday, February 13th 2009, (Bad Luck Day?) This was my initial post and I thank you all, my friends, _m

snow fills
this cabin's shattered bones
a broken tea cup

... for now.

balance time
yesterday is tomorrow
eventide

Another... "33"

empty moon
the night sky fills the lake
a time of stars

lake shore cliff
moss clings to that rocky peak
mountain laurel
 

__It was long ago now. In that sun, the steeple's slate shingles warmed some, and its collected snow slid downward due to the vibrations of that ringing bell.  Poor paper boys!

the bell's chime
snow covers the church steps
Sunday papers

__Through a winter day's change to night,  that extreme temperature change stresses our nearby pond's ice-cap, and that increased tension causes the ice to loudly creak.

snow moon
this pond speaks to the night
a neighbor's dog

Not a seasonal >confusion < just the >comfort< of my memories. Smiles! _m

summer rains
wash this snowfall away
lost calendar

__Is the snow hawk waiting for its shadow, 0r is the shadow... waiting for another hawk?  _m

this snow hawk
flies away from its shadow
another waits

__I am a "Contrary." Saving, and gaining time can be an extreme advantage, but so often I'd rather see and learn that which lingers at each curve; my positive view. Can time gained, ignore history... and generate its loss? _m

old paths curve
new trails cut straight
history passed

__A new beginning,  my computer recovery  is complete, and now 'tis far more efficient than its last performance; nothing lost. _m

charcoal in the hand
pushed and pulled in eye's sight
a hawk watches