• There’s Venus Rising
    Above Our Neighbor’s Roofline
    Just Before the Dawn

    And Clouds Outlined in
    Colors too Passionate to
    Be Called Apricot

    And You Still Abed
    And Me, Driving East, Dreaming
    Of Home and Day’s End

    , , , , , ,
  • Boston and All That
    History, Mine and Others,
    Condenses to Fog
    , , , ,
  • Just Harvested Fields
    Stretch Satisfied, Radiant
    With a Sunset Blush
    , ,
  • Night Rain Sifting Down,
    Lit by Street Lamps, Sounding Like
    A Gentle Caress
    , ,
  • Stars Still Rule the Sky
    But Here and There, A Light in
    An Upstairs Window
    , ,
  • Sunrise on the Frost
    Ignores Modern Cynics to
    Paint the Fields Golden
    , , ,
  • At the City’s Edge
    Sunrise Paints Roofs and Fields With
    The Color of Dreams
    , , , ,
  • The Day Opens Up
    Like Sunrise Beneath the Wings
    Of a Sandhill Crane
    , , , ,
  • This Monday Morning
    My Car, Your Sandy Footprint
    And I am Content
    , ,
  • An Autumn Morning
    Sky Suggests Travel, But Cats
    Wind Around My Legs
    , , , ,
  • An Autumn Morning
    Courts the Clouds With a Brushing
    Touch of Lightest Gold
    , , ,
  • Twenty Five Years and
    Two O’clock have Come and Gone
    Like Dreams on Waking

    Sifting Through the Mind
    Slowly, All Effervescent
    And Insubstantial

    Saved by the Sure Weight
    Of Memory, Casting Its Light
    Into the Future

    , , , ,
  • Orange Sun Rising
    Through a Floating Summer Haze
    High Clouds Whisper Fall

    Something Beginning
    Or Ending Or Maybe Both
    But Always Longing

    And Only Blues on
    The Radio, or That’s Just
    All I Care to Hear

    , , , , , ,
  • One Summer Morning
    Fog at the Tree Line, The Earth
    Breathing, Thinking, “Fall”
    , , ,
  • It is a Kind of
    Late Summer Privilege, to Sit
    With Sleepy Eyed Cats
    ,

  • In Memoriam, Joe DiJulio

    He Has Gone Ahead
    But You Must Tarry Here for
    Some Little Longer

    Between Now and Then
    On That Long Bridge Between Loss
    And Recovery

    A Heavy Heart is
    Still a Sacred Vessel Filled
    With Enduring Love

    , , ,
  • Along Rural Roads
    Sweet Corn in Farm Stands Sings the
    Songs of Late Summer
    , , , , ,
  • Home From the City
    To You, Through Corridors of
    Bright and Wild Flowers
    , , ,
  • Allen Miller 1918-2015

    An Old Photograph,
    Tattered Edges, Creased and Scratched
    Faded and Fuzzy

    But She’s Turned Towards You
    Smiling, And Your Joy Shines Through
    All the Time That’s Passed

    Lighting Memories
    That Float and Glow Like Fireflies
    In the Late Evening

    , , , , ,

  • Late May, Sleeping In
    To the Dappled Sound of Rain
    And Flowers Growing

    , , , ,

  • Salad Dreams of Summer
    Rising Scent of Red
    Tomato, Fresh Sliced, Carries
    All My Summer Dreams

    , , ,

  • Brighter than Angels
     

    Just Before the Leaves
    Birch Limbs, Brighter than Angels,
    Etched on Bluest Sky

    , , ,

  • Sunset Stripe - Rose Masterpol
    Sunset Stripe
    Rose Masterpol

     
     
     
    An Urban Sunset,
    Iridescent Dragonflies
    Above Curb-side Pools

    , , ,


  • When Winter Won’t End
    When Even the Whitest Snow
    Wearies to Grey Ice

    Even Then, the Melting
    Reveals a Sun Warmed Rock, and
    Tells Another Story

    As Drifts Curve ‘Round Like
    Ripples From a Pebble Dropped
    In a Summer Pond

    , , ,


  • Another Winter’s Dawn
    Drawn in Symphonies of Gray
    And Played in Silence

    , , , ,


  • Surviving on Gifts
    Of Light and Song. Subzero
    Sunrises, Dulcet Chords

    , , ,

  • Cloudy and Colder
    The Day Settles in Like a
    Bad Weather Forecast

    No Fog to Soften
    Tattered Winter Edges or
    Curbside Frozen Trash

    But Night Falls, Clouds Clear,
    Full Moon Lights the Lake. A Passing
    Fox Pauses to Watch

    , , , , , ,


  • From Every Street Lamp
    A Drifting Winter Fog Pulls
    A Pale Cone of Light

    , ,

  • A Morning Fog Floats,
    Quiet as a Silent Prayer,
    Into the Tree Tops

    A Fog That Softens
    All Sight and Sound and Maybe
    All We Think We Know

    Snowflakes Drifting Down,
    Gently as Forgiveness, to
    Shroud Every Sharp Edge.

    , , , , , ,


  • Snow Falls Like Dreaming
    Talking to Myself, Believing
    Not a Single Word

    , ,


  • After the Leaves Fall
    Bare Trees Remain, A kind of
    Standing History

    , ,


  • Fall Seemed Late This Year
    But Still, Harvest’s In, Leaves Raked
    Before the First Snow

    , , , ,


  • First Snow and Last Leaves
    Rattle on Nearly Bare Limbs
    Above Frozen Lawns

    , ,


  • Yesterday’s Maples
    Were Infused Top to Bottom
    In Every Color

    Today’s Lawns Hold Half
    That Bounty in Pools Like an
    Impressionist’s Dream

    Tomorrow’s Landscape
    Distills all that Hued Movement
    Into Black and White

    , ,


  • Morning Mist, No Breeze,
    The Sound of a Leaf Falling,
    Cries of Unseen Geese

    , , ,


  • Just After Summer
    Before We Knew it was Fall
    Horse Tail Clouds and Fog

    , ,


  • Light Ebbs and Flows
    Gently Beneath Skies So Blue
    They Touch Your Soul


    And a Rich Silence,
    Rising with the Heat, Whispers
    Calm and Solitude


    In Red Rock Canyons
    On the High Desert, Time Finds
    It’s Natural Rhythm

    , , ,


  • Above the Daily
    Roar, The Gentle Whisper of
    Wind and Trees Dancing

    ,


  • Let Us Go, Then, You
    And I, To The Prairie of
    Tall Grass Taller Trees

    Let Us Go Out to
    Blue Sky, Floating Hawks, And All
    The Swooping Swallows

    Yes, Let Us Go To
    Lingering Summer Sunsets And
    All The Stars Beyond.

    , , , , ,


  • Diving Into Green.
    The Happy Sighs of Trees Lift
    On the Warming Breeze

    ,

  • Human Traces


    Designed, Constructed
    Ambition Made Physical
    Each Passion Rendered

    , ,

  • The Fauna


    Like Us and, Yet, Not.
    Distant, Ambiguous Shamans
    Tell Us Our Stories

    , ,

  • The Flora


    Figuring Things Out
    Patiently as the Land and
    Just as Mysterious

    , , ,

  • The Land


    Sometimes Burnt, Sometimes
    Green, Always New, Old Beyond
    Our Imagining


  • Waiting for Springtime
    Hoping the Tide has Turned With
    Every Liquid Drop

    ,


  • Telephone Wires Drawn
    In Orange Above Sunrise
    Polished, Empty Streets

    , , , ,


  • The Sharp Edges Carved
    By a Sub-Zero Sunrise
    Could Draw Blood if Touched

    , ,


  • A Frozen Sunrise
    Whispers Springtime in Pastel
    Light on Roofs and Sky

    , , , , ,


  • In Deepest Winter
    Even the Night Sky Freezes
    Turning Slightly Blue


    Touch a Match to Wood,
    Light the Fire and Warm the House
    Sparks Fly up the Flue


    Cold White Vapor
    Paints That Black Night Sky Like the
    Memory of Sunlight

    , , , , , ,


  • A Few Rose Hued Clouds
    Mirrored by a Scattering
    Of Frost on Red Roofs

    , 
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More From A Year in Haiku
About A Year in Haiku
Haiku’d Photographs
Haiku’d Short Stories
Haiku with The Photography of Michele Gast
Haiku with The Art of Juliette Crane
A Year In Haiku The Podcast

A Year in Haiku
is a
Prairie Star Studios
Production