haiku

crowds of iris on curb
wave to pilgrims passing by
I'm still a hermit

The House # 1

The brick house loomed like a castle over the neighborhood. Druid oak and white pine ruled the backyard and surrounding dwellings. At night, the sidewalk shivered and prayed beneath the full fat moon while maple trees dropped thier seeds into the wind.

haiku

Yes!! irises from
my window indigo drops
ink in green garden

haiku

impression Andrew
Wyeth trees lean into his
river green spring


paint me into it
Andrew river pilgrimage
Brandywine

haiku

You want to
live in a hut in the woods like some
medieval,Welsh poet and write
poetry to yew trees.

You want to be the grass.

haiku

car radio off
a crow looms up in front
green stone church hidden

haiku

green garden shut eye
meditation pond listen
look how brilliant now!

haiku

i bring them rubies
plucked from pomegranate heart
she spits them out

Basho

I pretend to be Basho

wandering here and there up

and down the mountain

pausing to write small

zen moment poems in

green silence or white

snow silence - garden

morning walks or 700 mile

treks searching for a

magic pollen place or a

clear bird song morning.

Frost did it, sure, but

Basho did it first. I am their

plump old woman disciple.