A poem for Friday

                                                     I want to tell what the forests
                                                     were like

                                                     I will have to speak
                                                     in a forgotten language

                                                     "Witness" by W.S. Merwin (1988)

The Survivor (a haiku)

I can take your WORST!

Give me snow, rain, ice, heat, drought.

Others die, I thrive. 

Beetle Graffiti (a haiku)

Temporary lines

Scrawled across the work of others.

I ask - Is it art?

Potential (a haiku)

                                                              Like tiny fireworks,
                                                              Butterflyweed seeds explode
                                                              as future flowers.

Fog

A foggy late summer morning on the Chippewa River in 2008

 

This morning the drive to work was through a very foggy landscape reminding me of the Carl Sandberg poem "Fog".

 



 

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

 

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.