The following haiku were published in the April 6th issue of The Weekly Avocet. You’ll note that each verse can stand alone. I copied them in the order they appear in the magazine. You can click on the Play button below to hear me read them. Enjoy, and happy spring!
snowmelt drips from eves
birdsong calls from distant tree
heralds coming spring
sun shines in blue sky
warms the air up to forty
white snow disappears
we wear lighter coats
feel sun on eager faces
spring fever abounds.
The following was published in this year’s sprig issue of The Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poetry. You can click on the Play button below the link to hear me read it. Enjoy, and wherever you are, don’t let the wind knock you down.
How to Walk in Wyoming’s Wind
Bundle up with hands in pockets.
If the wind is at your front, lean into it.
Don’t let it push you around.
Utter profanities–no one will hear them.
When you retrace your steps, the wind will be at your back.
Let it propel you. Like the horse returning to the barn,
you’ll clip along at a steady, quick pace.
When you get home, reward yourself with a hot drink.
According to this week’s issue of The Weekly Avocet, National Gardening Week is celebrated during the first part of June. Here’s a poem of mine on the subject that originally appeared in my collection, How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver. It was inspired by a real event. I recently submitted this to The Weekly Avocet’s garden challenge but haven’t yet heard if they’ll publish it.
You can click below to hear me read the poem.
*** In the Garden
There are no trees, just an expanse of dirt.
While Mother and Dad work, I sit on the steps,
with limited vision, study seed packets of peas, corn, tomatoes,
read the labels, gaze at the pictures.
I’m only twelve.
Little brother Andy, five,
rides his bike around the neighborhood.
In the distance, sirens wail.
“Sounds like fire engines,” says Dad.
In the house, the phone rings.
I hurry indoors to answer it.
A male voice asks for my mother.
I rush outside, call her to the phone.
“Oh my god! We’ll be right there,” she says.
“Ed, we need to pick up Andy at the police station.
He was playing with matches near the shack
at the bottom of the hill when it caught fire.”
The garden and I are abandoned.
What are your childhood memories of gardening? Did you help your parents till the soil and plant the seeds? What about enjoying the fruits of your labor in the fall? Didn’t those fresh vegetables taste wonderful? Do you think gardening taught you about eating healthier foods? I’d love to read your thoughts, either in the comments field here or on your own blog. Happy gardening, and happy summer.
Several years ago while I was taking a poetry class, the instructor assigned us a villanelle. In this tricky form of traditional verse, two lines must be repeated in alternating stanzas and the lines that are not constantly repeated must rhyme. This will be more clear when you read the following poem, which is what I wrote during that time. It was recently published in The Weekly Avocet. You can click the link below to hear me read it.