Haiga Archive

How long have I been sitting here,
O Nautilus
shell densely wedged beneath this hopeful wisp
of sapphire sky
or pared-back moon,
my February gray?

peonies nod
the added weight of
rain and ants

leaving the trees early april sun
The spring wind is blowing warm. Just above the trees a swift flying crow heads stright for the lake. A sudden cross wind gusts and knocks the crow sideways, nearly flipping it over. It lets out a startled caw but quickly recovers and continues on.

a drift
of cottonwood seeds
summer snow

garden party
a buzzing and chirping
as clouds gather

a crack in the ice
pines at the pond’s edge
faintly stirring

nor’easter
the radio keeps playing
white christmas