wind sears the skin
on the hillside in the sun
no way out but through
the cold doesn’t burn
when the sun’s eight fingers high
and the wind is still
waited all year for
this white pine, this blue sky
this empty street
Mount Ida College Pond After Work Haiku
wind moving across the water
birdsong bullfrog
dragonfly chainsaw
when the chainsaw falls still
flash of red
against black wings
January 25 Haiku: Thin Snow, Alone at Last, Black Crow
blessed solitude
first set of tracks on the trail
corbins cry above
How to Be Alone
A beautiful poem — visual, verbal, musical — on the virtues of solitude.
“If you’re happy in your head, then solitude is blessed and alone is okay.”
Garden of Words 