so many mistakeseverything I do is wrong–snow falling through boughs▪︎ I stare into airemotionally bereft–the poem written▪︎ a blue and white worldblue sky, white roofs, blue shadowssnow’s transformations▪︎ inches of new snow–my husband shovels a pathto the bird feeders▪︎▪︎
2.13.23
log piles in the parkthe emerald ash borersteals trees from children
2.11.23
the fiddle player eyes shut, he senses music sweats out glissandos February sun another easy winter black shadows and mud Hass called it sacred– the struggle of facing doom each frigid blizzard old goddesses pelting us with snow showers, ice pellets
2.10.23
To soften your heartyou must tunnel to its paincrack its bitter shellgreet the light that fills its spaceaccept what it illumines. Enough of the past!It displaces my focus–birches embracing. I sit at my desk.So many poems to studywith a slow laptop.
2.9.23
With haiku, I want the third line to hit you in your solar plexus and sink. I suppose I will need to write a thousand before I learn how. Shamanic healing / those who invade my psyche / find themselves expelled The life of a crone / I think of former lovers / and breathe…