7 Days in September (Haiku Collection)

          -- 1 --

Autumn’s lake reflects

sunset’s fading tones, conjoined,

earth and sky and us.

          -- 2 --

Spectral fog rises,

revealing a muted shore;

life proclaims itself.    

          -- 3 --

Smoke from chimney’s flue

ascends, curling, slips away;

so we, too, shall part.

          -- 4 --

After the rain ends,

grass glistens, light refracted;

cleansed, we rise and go.

          -- 5 --

Leaves turn red and gold,

fade to brown and yellow hue;

nature turns us all.

          -- 6 --

Migrant birds, fat now,

prepare to go, southward bent;

we persist, snow-bound.

          -- 7 --

Mournful call’s echo,

loons assembling flocks for flight;

children crying out.

What word would you speak?

to remind me

of the simplicity

of a single

     word

softly spoken.

Life's Minutia

Life’s minutia, the trivial,

little bits and pieces of our lives

lost in the recesses of memory,

often beg to be recalled

- that girl in the first grade

you fell in love with at six,

you and all the first grade boys

competing for her affection,

Carol Savage and your fifth grade teacher,

too, Miss Wilson – begging to be recalled

for no reason than to be remembered,

glimpses of a life long lived,

a meaningless jumble of memories flashing

into remembrance and retreating again

with a smile, a grin, a grimace,

a warmth left behind in their passing.

Two Poems for September

It Was September

It was September,

     the coming of Autumn’s season -

like a glass of wine poured,

rich and red and deep,

hints of cherry and chocolate,

long on my palate: September given life

in the body and balance of a Cabernet.

**********************************************

Wine tastes best alone

Wine tastes best alone,

     on a quiet evening, warmed

          by the rays of a setting sun,

               the sounds of dusk turning to night

                    resonating in a rich, red bouquet.