.
a widow’s grief
never ends —
five years later
without you
I still can’t watch
the
Times
Square
New
Year’s
ball
drop
.
.
a widow’s grief
never ends —
five years later
without you
I still can’t watch
the
Times
Square
New
Year’s
ball
drop
.
.
winter sunrise —
peaks through dark green pine trees
dances on the ash
.
.
❤️
44 years, my love
they said it would never last
and even though right now
we’re far apart
our love still sparkles in the stars
.
.
.
Christmas cat —
tangled in discarded gift wrap
covered with ribbons and bows
.
(Was posted 12/29/23 at WE)
.
.
Christmas stars —
the only gift I need —
knowing your love
is shining forever on me
.
.
Nothing was posted from 12/12/23 through 12/24/23 and then from 12/26 to 12/27.
.
Hi Ladies! Sending love ❤️❤️❤️ to all and a new (old) haiku from my Haiku Book for Mom:
deep
blue-grey shadows
the weary day
hunchess down
crushing
tops of trees
.
Here’s today’s haiku, original version from my Haiku Book for Mom:
cold
overcast day
roof-top pigeons huddle
feathers
fluttering
in the wind
.
From WE, from A Haiku Book for Mom:
fruitless mulberry
early morning party-line —
leaves
chatter in the wind
.
Frem WE from my Haiku Book for Mom:
teasing my nose
today’s breakfast treat —
the smell
of cinnamon yams
.
It’s gotten way late here as usual so while it’s still today, here’s another haiku from my Haiku BooK for Mom. It’s about a time after 25 or 30 years dh and I had the whole house recarpeted with a great buy we found at a place called Remnants and Rolls that had lots of new left-over carpet for cut rates. We found some that we really liked that was just exactly enough to carpet the whole house plus I asked them to lay double padding:
new
squishy-soft
carpet —
walking
sinking
with tiny cat feet
.
Here’s today’s haiku, also a rework from an entry in my Haiku Book for Mom —
rain
continues
to
fall —
in the dark
shimmering puddles
come alive
.
Another haiku today; posted on the Safe list, reflecting on someone’s post and then at WE:
falling
beyond
heart-beats
I breathe the silence
of
infinity
.
Here’s today’s haiku, two versions. It’s a rework of one from my Haiku Book for Mom:
seagull flown inland
drags wisps of foggy air
the scent
of fish and chips
v2
seagull flown inland
drags wisps of salty air
the scent
of fish and chips
.
.
everywhere
holiday colors —
husking walnuts
my fingers
turn green
.
.
(From a post at WE: And wow; um; no, but it still reads about the way I meant, the beauty of all the colors being worn — it absolutely amazes me how two English speaking people, probably both as our native language, can use the same words and mean things so differently! Let me reword the haiku, first by what I think you meant for the word “lawn” and the second, a bit more clear (?) what I originally meant.)
swirling in soft cotton fabric —
new winter dresses!
reds and browns and golds
v2
trying on new winter coats
the outside grass dresses in
reds and browns and golds
And here’s the haiku that I wanted to post yesterday on the first but the scrap of paper it was written on decided it would be more fun to hide until I found it today:
silent winter nights
with frosty ice cold kisses
December sneaks in
.
.
.
trying on new winter coats
the lawn dresses
in browns and reds and golds
.