Cat on my blanket

Cat on my blanket,

unblinking. His yellow eyes,

windows to another world.

Passing time

Deaths of our elders,
the fallen autumn leaves, bare
arbors of our lives.

Seventeen syllables for Powell's

A soggy day splashing through the city with out-of-town relatives led us to "The City of Books" where I fleshed out my E.B. White collection with "Essays"and "One Man's Meat."

But wait! There's more!

Complete Idiot's
book credit at Powell's snags
Motor Scooter Guide!

Three from the beach

Gathered beach rocks,
Jagged, jade, flat white and grey.
Convened by my hand.

Being the oldest
On the beach is to have seen
more seagulls, white caps.

Dots along the waves
Flapping south,
Pelican parade.

Four of Seven from the Beach

Eight days at the beach,
Rich chocolates on a plate.
Savor one — by — one.

***

Beulah Reed Road links
our cabin to the sea.
Who was Beulah Reed?

***

Rhythmic gabled roofs,
Rich shadows beneath the spruce.
Sketchbook in my hand.

***

Mountain in a storm,
Cloud enveloped, hidden,
battered or caressed?

Haiku: Less takes longer

The Portland Japanese Garden's Haiku contest (alert: deadline Oct. 8) inspired me to try my hand at this minimalist verse.

That old caution, "I'd have written less if I had more time," certainly applies.

It so happens I found time — deep in the night.

The two haiku that follow took three hours to write. At 34 syllables, that works out to more than five minutes per syllable.

Here's what the time produced:

Chosen forest trail,
Sure as bark and root and map,
Turns — and disappears.


• • •


Off shore, a rogue wave
Fells a granite monolith
As I comb the beach.