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Seasons and Moons: poems and haiku

Updated on January 22, 2016

Seasons and Moons

Mid-August/Not quite a Haiku

The shorter days spread coolness

over the earth;

half a lifetime of memories,

sorrow across my chest.

Haiku for September 3, 2011

The front came through; I

put away

my summer dresses.

First Week of September

The windows are closed;

the quiet

of winter descends.

This Year’s Harvest

There weren’t many

chestnuts, but

I found some, gave some.

Two Chesnuts...

in the sun, then in

my hands, sun-

shine warming my palms.

My Mynion/October 2011

The cat who won't leave my side

The Christmas Cactus full of buds

The recording of a Bruckner Symphony

The air in my lungs

The quiet of the early morning

A letter from far away

The tree full of yellow leaves

The music that comes out of my fingers

The sun off the Lake

The picture from long ago --

With these as my companions, I proceed in prayer.

November Light

5:00 p.m. in the kitchen,

and there it is:

the last of the day’s light,

straining around the tilt of the earth,

through the newly bared tree branches.

I never notice this in the summer.

The sun comes up;

The sun goes down.

But today, the sunset stops me.

I am content to stand in the middle of the kitchen,

staring out the window above the sink.

When I was young,

I never noticed my heart beating,

and I assumed there would be love and affection enough

to affirm its activity.

Now I am silenced and brought to tears

in the face of Love’s tenacious presence.


The sun still rose ov-

er the vast

body of water.

January Light

…that subtle shift: a little higher, a little longer, a little brighter--

like those long abandoned prayers that are subtly answered,

and we find our fragile, tender longings

tended to with courtesy and intimacy

Winter was Hard

The winter you were born was hard.

My cousin was in a car accident, spent two weeks in a coma and

twenty four weeks in a body cast;

I saw my father drag my mother across the floor by her hair and

beat my brother in the living room.

I had pneumonia, spent months sleeping on stacked pillows, so

I could breath and lost weight

because the infected phlegm coated my taste buds.

The winter I met you was in the middle of a string of hard winters.

After years of stress and loss, my body finally rebelled,

making my days a succession of humiliations, constant pain , and

thick exhaustion.

Sometimes the weather makes winter hard.

There is so much relentless snow and ice and cold;

I bury the seed catalogues under old newspapers, keep the

gardening tools in the basement, and when my students

ask me, “How many days ‘til Spring?” I tell them that

I’m not counting.

No matter how hard the winter’s been, there always comes a day

when the sun is higher in the sky and

the wrappings of January seem too warm –

Like hearing a voice on the phone again and again, reminding me

that I am not dead and of

the sweetness of being alive.

In the Air

Lilacs perfume and

grace the days

in the month of May.

Like love,

Lilacs flourish in

likely and

unlikely places.

No Bird Signs –

For months: no blue jays,

doves, herons –

then came the New Moon.

New Moon’s Message

No dream this month; in-

stead, a hawk

flew past the window.

Spice of Life

New moon in the Ninth

House: I bought

some oregano.


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    • whonunuwho profile image

      whonunuwho 23 months ago from United States

      Very heartfelt and soulful work my friend. I feel your many moods and the way you deak with them. Well done my friend. whonu