sleepless—
I turn and watch
the moon watch me
Acorn: A Journal of Contemporary Haiku, #44, Spring 2020 issue
sleepless—
I turn and watch
the moon watch me
Acorn: A Journal of Contemporary Haiku, #44, Spring 2020 issue
This tanka was published in Hedgerow, a journal of small poems ~ #130, Winter 2020
we turn away
from all we just can’t face—
the glistening red
of a vulture’s head
emerges from a carcass
Poet’s note:
Out of decay comes art and beauty. Look what artist Georgia O’Keefe created from a skull found where she lived in New Mexico. All is part of nature and is nature.

Deer’s Skull with Pedernal by Georgia O’Keefe (c) 1936
Where I live in central North Carolina, we have plenty of black vultures and turkey vultures. They circle and gather in the sky when there is carrion to be had. I chose this topic for the tanka because it’s a scene I’ve seen more than once. Yes, it’s not a pretty sight. Vultures, especially when eating a dead animal or gathering in a group in a tree or abandoned house do give you shivers. Something in us seems to respond with at least a momentary revulsion. However, I’m a bird lover and I try to see how a specific species fits into the scheme of things. Vultures and crows do eat carrion, the flesh of dead animals, often of roadkill along our roads and streets. They perform a good service by eating their meal and cleaning the mess up. Imagine all those dead animals left to rot. So these birds help us as they go about their business (albeit unpleasant business to us). They are birds we should appreciate for their useful role in nature. They also offer us a wonderful metaphor.
My thanks to editor, Caroline Skanne for being the one editor who chose to publish this poem.
Synesthesia in haiku ~
This haiku was recently published in Hedgerow, a journal of small poems ~ #130, Winter 2020
spring…
hearing green
and only green

Haru = Spring
Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga
Issue #30, March 2020
both parents
dead at sixty one –
imagine my surprise
the day I turned
sixty-two
Published in Modern Haiku, Winter-Spring, Issue 50:4, 2019
the bite of winter wind
all this murmuring
but no words

Redlights, Volume 16, No. 1, January 2020
a gradual loss
of peripheral vision
leaves it all unclear
why is it that the brain
still searches for the edge
~
underlined passages
in a library book –
I idle away an hour
puzzling why a reader
chose those words