Last Friday Evening

Memorial Day

begins hushed with Friday’s breeze

the rest a mystery

Sunday Afternoon

The colors taken—
lavender violet—what’s left
for wisteria?

*

I long for the nod
the generational wink
that says yeah it was

*

Is it still in me
on an unfamiliar trail
the power to shine

Two Spring Haiku

Cold clings to April
cloth chilled on a bed of ice
balm to unseen wound

*

A helicopter
gone before I’ve found a word
for the sky, for flight

Forecast

Awaiting March snow
winter’s first real storm (or not) 
branches breathe in buds

Acceptance (Two Haiku)

All I can see now,
light glimpsed through slats of fence. 
No, all I can say.

*

Still: even so. Still:
after all this time. And still:
spring snow silent, still. 

Warmth

Six days left till spring, 
first fire of winter burning, 
one coming, one here.

DST

Daylight savings dusk
the open end of a flask
pouring blue gold light

Rule

In February, 
you must love a spring-like day, 
ignore the cold pleas.