Arriving

The orange flame

arrives

like clockwork 

on the afternoon bus

from Zagreb. You

hoist your backpack

onto eager shoulders 

and, singing in 

Arabic, hit

the street,

hazel eyes

blazing, situated 

exactly where

you like it, somewhere

liminal, halfway

between chaos

and calm,

forgetting 

and remembering 

at the same

time..

Backyard Haiku

 

Sprawling white cat..

You look like 

     you ate

a watermelon!!

Dew Haiku

 Silver dew,

a single drop

clings 

to desert

sage.  

Humming Haiku

Hum of the frig

Massaging the tired house

Another cup of coffee..

Early days of summer,

my unquiet mind 

     starts raking

Autumn’s fallen 

      leaves..

   WRITING

is a sacramental act,

alone sitting still 

on sun-soaked 

stones

listening to a bounding 

stream

washing great blocks

of boulders 

clean. 

  At Bottom 

And we shall dip hands

and drink from the blue river

flowing like wind

through the Grand Canyon

of our dreams..