Thinned by drought

thinned by drought, fire,
and finally autumn—
through these woods
I see a freight train
carrying off the year

—Atlas Poetica, Autumn 2012

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Winter sun

winter sun
finally breaks through—
my mother
knew to cut my apple
so I could see its star

—A Hundred Gourds, 1:3 June 2012

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I marvel

I marvel
at these small-town ways
more than once
the post office clerk
wishing me Merry Christmas 

—Dec. 2011 (Magnolia, Texas)

Happy Holidays . . . and warm, peace-filled wishes.

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After the snow

after the snow
a large-winged seagull
fills the sky

—Haiku News, Dec. 16, 2009; Haiku News Anthology, 2012

It was big news for us: a beautiful, light snow—the earliest one on record for Houston, Texas. Houston is located about 50 miles from the Gulf of Mexico; it rarely snows there, much less the first week in December (not to mention one day before my birthday). An exceptionally cool winter would follow.

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Special post

Prayers and thoughts for all those affected by the shooting tragedy at Sandy Hook elementary school in Connecticut ... those precious little children and many other victims.

Also today, for the 22 children wounded in a knife attack outside an elementary school in Henan Province, China.

My grandfather; his early years

my grandfather,
grower of Christmas trees
rows of them
.....before that, children
.....rows of them

      his early years
      on the Kansas prairie,
      memorable 
      and hard . . . like the squares
      of his homemade fudge

—Landfall: Poetry of Place in Modern English Tanka, 2007

The needle

the needle 
skips across tracks
on a warped LP 
.....songs in my life
.....I cannot replay

—Ribbons, Autumn 2012

A friend gave me three or four wonderful LPs many years ago. For some reason, I left them in my car, which was parked at the top, i.e., open-air level, of a parking garage. Brilliant, I know. (Vinyl melts.)

LPs? I must be old. Today's my birthday.