Haiku

birch branch laden with ice

dips heavily to the ground

as the crow alights

Forgiveness

A spent dandelion-
One wisp still clinging
to the bald-headed stalk.
I blow again, and a third time…
before dropping it as I walk away.

always my little boy

Ancient black sharpie scribbles
disrupt the shine
of my old oak table.
I smile,
remembering you then.

fermata

unintended measures of rests
counted off between us
waiting
for someone to speak

tires on the pavement
slushy soft-shoe
embodying
our silence with more weight

black birds on the wires
sprinkled notes on a staff
dissonant
if they could be heard

headlights never quite reaching
close enough to the horizon
to gauge
how far we are to the end

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Untitled (for now)

Just after Christmas

Pussywillows are budding

As if spring has come