Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Haiku: Reflection

Gloomy day this dawn
Sullen clouds of leaden gray
No pink stripes in view.

Last day of the year
Sky reflects tenor of times.
Pray New Year brings hope.


Evening Finery: A Haiku

Pink streak gracing sky
As the day changes to night
Puts on party clothes.


Eulogy for Winter: A Haiku

Wind’s fierce howling
Grieves winter companions
White snow, icy temps.


Not Your Grandmother’s Thanksgiving

Out to the airport, hop on a plane
To grandmother’s timeshare we go.
No turkey or stuffing or cranberry sauce.
Not even one tiny inch of white snow.
Well now that would have been odd
Since we flew down south to Mexico.

Ours was a Thanksgiving Hollywood movie style.
Family of three sons, three daughters-in-law
Six grandchildren – four boys and two girls –
And me, mom and grandma. Thirteen in all.
Gathered again after four years intervened
Carrying some baggage not checked on the plane.

Family stew so they say is one hearty broth
Magical too if chewed well and digested.
I had hardly unpacked when the melee began.
(Snow storm at the airport messed up my flights
And I finally arrived a day late.
No worry I was brought up to date.)

Old memories were stirred by present events.
Childish shenanigans of my four grandsons
Replayed awful feelings to my youngest son
Of a six-year-old boy teased round the table
By father and big brothers with no one to the rescue.
He finally exploded venting years of old stuff.

This occurred while we grown folks dined at a fine restaurant
Toasting 20th anniversary of youngest son and his wife.
His brother,the eldest, asked what was the matter
And took time to listen though not understanding.
My mother’s ear heard distress, asked a question
“How old is the small boy who is hurting inside?”

Next day was Thanksgiving. We had time to be thankful.
Opening old wounds can bring new beginnings.
Four years ago at our family Thanksgiving, I chose a new life.
I moved “back home”, lest I regret it, to spend time remaining
Near sons,  wives and grandchildren.
I wonder what new thing will unfold in our future?


Weather Report: A Haiku

Single rose ribbon
Streaking sodden low gray clouds
Slight promise for sun.


Salute the Day: A Haiku

Lonely pink banner
Waving flag of day’s dawning.
Oh! Say can you see?