haiku retrospective ccxxxvi

winter sleep
at last! a break
from the vomiting

13 January 2003


late night chill
the sick child too still
on his pallet

13 January 2003


limp paper snowflakes
a flash of sunshine
on the redwood's new fronds

13 January 2003

haiku retrospective ccxxxv

every morning
an hour of sleep
lost forever

10 January 2003


winter flame war
it's entirely their fault
as usual

12 January 2003


hard at work
i gaze out the window and
sip my tea

13 January 2003

haiku retrospective ccxxxiv

withering wind
your eyes in the face
of a stranger

8 January 2003


shattered fir branch
my hood muffles
the sound of rain

9 January 2003


no wind
raindrops outline
the redwood's needles

9 January 2003

haiku retrospective ccxxxiii

morning light
her clothes in a heap
on the floor

5 January 2003


first light
i reach over to turn off
the night light

6 January 2003


obsidian arrowhead i think i get the point

7 January 2003

haiku retrospective ccxxxii

morning prayer
the fire flares
to life

3 January 2003


improvised dance
tap a few lines
and the rest of us will fake it

3 January 2003


after lovemaking
we pee
in separate stalls

5 January 2003

haiku retrospective ccxxxi

I no longer experience the wonders of Christmas; I engineer them.

My childhood Christmases were big, fancy events with lots of relatives, lots of big meals, lots of alcohol, and a feeding frenzy under the tree.

dancing with excitement 
the tinkle of broken glass 
from the fallen tree 

Yes, one year, I knocked the Christmas tree over in my excitement. I managed to stand it back up by myself and never, ever told my parents.

rich foods 
rich colors 
playing with my fork 
while i wait for the adults 
to finish their coffee 
so we can open our presents 


christmas morning 
only my grandfather awake 
when we tiptoe downstairs 


christmas afternoon 
the men play 
with our new train set 


christmas evening 
playing aggravation 
with a side of pie 

Times of transition.

Most of the men in my family of origin have problems with alcohol and substance abuse. The women work their fingers to the bone and throw their annual holiday tantrums. I want something simpler, more meaningful. I want to spend my holidays with my children rather than in the kitchen.

We usually have Christmas at home, just us. We open presents slowly, over Christmas Eve day, and take time to enjoy each one. We sing together, and read special stories together. Everyone hangs a stocking (even us parents).

christmas tree hunt 
our youngest child finds 
the perfect pine 


nat king cole's carols 
the children hang ornaments 
any way they want 


december 23rd 
giggles, scampers, slamming doors 
another awkward parcel underneath the tree 


christmas eve 
a cup of cocoa 
by the fire 


christmas morning 
chocolate on his face 
before breakfast 


christmas night 
fifteen-two, fifteen-four, 
and a double run for twelve 

 3 January 2003

haiku retrospective ccxxx

winter night
the steady ticking
of the cuckoo clock

2 January 2003


evening solitude
tea strainers drying
on the drainboard

2 January 2003


midnight solo
drawing a moonbow
across my viola

2 January 2003