Egret

Small eyes of bright dark glass, brighter than beetles crawling through infinite grass.

Tall and white as the flower beneath my window that opens each day and disappears each night. You move so fast.

I must step out for a better view. The bloom doesn’t mind…why do you?

{National Poetry Month is here. I will try to write a poem every day for the month of April. This is possibly one of those quantity over quality situations. There may be typos…

I don’t know if I will be able to publish a poem every single day, but I would like to at least attempt to write one.

This poem was inspired by the “early bird” warm-up prompt on March 31, 2020 at NaPoWriMo.net.}

Striped

When a cold front arrives,
it’s conspicuous.
Whole trees sway.
Leaves and chimes are moved to music.

Cats and coyotes cry
at dawn. They sound
like children in peril.
Or demons.

I am a prisoner watching
from morning’s window.
Listening to the cries
of the lost and hungry.

Slipping out of blankets,
I am grounded
on a floor of ice.
Foggy but steady,

I step in slow motion
toward my daily routine—
silent and desensitized,
in striped fuzzy socks.

Dead Ends {a haibun}

Clouds make the January sky darker than it should be for five o’clock, and the temperature has been dropping all week.

After finishing a steaming cup of tea, it’s time to face the evening traffic. I wrap my turquoise scarf twice around my neck. A dull day deserves a bright color.

Tonight is the night.

I haven’t cut my hair in almost three years.

But it’s a new year. A new decade. I am ready to let go of dead ends.

And begin growing again.

Long, cold commute…
Running warm fingers through wet
shoulder length curls.