Been meaning to test Cell

Been meaning to test
Cell phone return character
For writing haiku.

early morning

sole swimmer observes
underwater lane marks form
perfect reflections

dark beach road

4:30 fog makes
strangers of the shapes you know
black seas shush; horns low

faster

dead wind flags hang limp
predawn fog draws on me to
beat my old best time

Air on a Wire

Big blow, little puff:
Kite breeze fights my flow outside
Prana pulls me home

Swim

follow the black line
somersault, kick off the wall
back to the deep end

Ride

down the hill upwind
up the hill wind at my back
ride uphill both ways

Run

go get my leash now
open the door and take me
to chase the squirrels

bury nose in snow
toss the head and prance away
hunting for snow mice

The time a heart keeps

Slow, heavy shovel swings
Sand and stones landing on wood
Silent, steady schuckling

parenting

don't copy me child
I set a poor example
learn your own bad words

fire season

smoky horizon
trees and homes consumed by flames
it could have been here

wildlife

mama looks, crosses
assuming it is safe now
calls her spotted fawn

why we cry

wine turns over the years
to vinegar or elixir
laughter also brings tears

Rising and falling

mourning, like diving
requires buoyancy and weight,
careful balancing

sterling light

sprinkler mist washes me
silver fog from underground
makes me miss the sea

I'm no Richard Henry Dana or Hafez-e Shirazi

Two poops at the flag
Stop. Squat. Grab. Wrap. Knot. Repeat.
Ghazals in the bag.

Evening Walks

Moon and Venus glow
above the fading sunset
Saturn joins the dance

bats fly crooked paths
across the fading twilight
eating mosquitoes

a blue bowl upturned
with jagged orange edges
filled with evening light

white lights sliding down
across the distant mountain
red lights going up

walking in the dark
a million twinkling stars shine
one fell from the sky

rustle in the grass
bounding, running away fast
Shadow smells a deer

beat

it warms my heart to see
light play on the slatted shade
straight sun blinds, they said

Sing We the Leis of Old

not bouquets of words
we toss twisted little wreaths
nosegays in stern foam