for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

fall ‘sightings’


river barge

pulling logs against the flow

against the twilight




flailing in the haze—

the first low star



a quiver

in the lavender bush?

but starlings roosting


So little time–that’s how the shift of seasons feel. Fall has shortened the day and the heart begins to crave for lost space that it doesn’t even recall which or where. I’ve lost track of ‘treasures’ I failed to gather; they’ve since turned into mush–I wouldn’t be able to sift them off the ground. Yet dying is so glorious in the gold of autumn. Again I can’t even think of how much ‘jornal’ I deserve for these fall sightings.


November 2, 2009 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , | 3 Comments