A tree frog

a tree frog

clings to the rain gauge ...

lingering drought

—Presence, issue 54, 2016

No drought here recently but, instead, torrential rains (not long ago, 20 inches in a day or two). This little frog, or one of its relatives, often hangs around our gauge, especially during extreme weather conditions, it seems.

Early spring

early spring 

the soft growth of antlers ...

a chill

each time my eyes meet his

on the hunter's trophy

—Skylark (a "Skylark's Nest" runner-up), 3:2, Winter 2015

Lost on a day

lost on a day

as gray as the road … 

mapless

I follow my instincts

to find the way home

—GUSTS, #23, spring/summer 2016

With the news

with the news
a faint dusting of snow ...
the word hospice
lodged in my mind,
freezing melting freezing

—GUSTS, #23, spring/summer 2016

Scarred with rust

scarred with rust

this metal dustpan

after two floods—  

the things I replace

the things I don't

—Frameless Sky, issue 3, fall 2015

Stitches out!

stitches out!
at this Thai café
my rice
arrives on the plate
in the shape of a heart

—American Tanka, #26, Feb. 2016

On bare ground; I consider

Here's a repeat, my second twigs&stones post. It almost feels like a "signature" poem for me:

on bare ground 
I sprinkle small seeds
with abandon
as if growing wildflowers
requires a lack of care

—Notes from the Gean, June 2011; Take Five (vol. 4), 2012

And another repeat (though I decided to make a small edit here):

I consider
buying a lily
this week,
my deluded body
clinging to spring

—Simply Haiku, Autumn 2006

To all who celebrate the holiday,  H A P P Y  E A S T E R ! And  P E A C E  to all.

A small boy; superimposed

a small boy

staring out at a world

he doesn't know—

snug in his flannel robe,

shrouded in illness

superimposed

on a snowy mountain,

my unclothed self …

no pockets to carry

the answers I want

—both of these from A Hundred Gourds, 5:2, March 2016

P.S. The little boy is a teenager now and doing very well indeed—thriving!