Master Gardener

Plowing through another separation
the paragon of letting go
grows into some
silent master gardener
farming good-byes.
the dog and I walk
around the lake
thinking a tick might attach itself
and maybe want to stay.


Hoping For The Peculiar

I read a poem
whose words were “Hell’s night nurse”
as He’ll night nurse.

How strange, I imagined,
a man nursing.

But that is night’s curse,
isn’t it?
Hoping for the peculiar.


The line “Hell’s night nurse” is from “Uninvited Guest” by Charles Simic.

Three Little Spots

There are three little dots,
little dirty spots,
that are on the window
I sit near to watch the birds.

I cleaned the inside.
The three spots remained.

I cleaned the outside.
The three spots remained.

The three spots
are inside the glass,
stubbornly inaccessible.

We can replace the window,
my husband said.

No, the dirt is on the inside.
A good reminder.




Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #152

La Jolla, Ca

Sea lion plays in
Foamy Pacific color
Sun’s warmth on her back


Black whiskered swimmer
Riding current’s colors to
Warmth of rocky shore