Psalm 92:2

A blanket of gold leaves covers the lawn today. The morning light glitters in the few left on the cherry tree. We still have not had a hard frost and purple sage continues to bloom. Almost everything else is gone to seed and the birds are eating well. A comfort to have their company. A chill comes through the window. If autumn is a symbol of our inevitable demise, it is a beautiful one. Each year, I am a bit less afraid. Maybe I am going home.

a door opens
to a flower garden


Red River Book of Haibun Vol 1


Day Moon

The reeds make music
In their own greening voices,
They touch one another, like lovers caressing,
And the rustling rises like an anthem.
Sea oats don’t ask for second chances,
They just quiver with life,
And when the breeze passes by
They stand in ecstasy.

A falcon rides an updraft,
Above a sun-beaten shore
Not questioning but soaring,
Wings swooshing as it dives to find
An unsuspecting field mouse,
Whose time has run out,
The final screech unheard, except by the wind.

I walk for miles and miles,
My mind wandering and pondering
The evidence all around,
My eyes sting with the yellow of goldenrod
Born of sand and salt,
My ears ring with the humming of bees
Sucking the last bit of summer.

Late afternoon shadows pull me back
From thoughts that wandered farther than I
Along the beach,
I gather myself up, reluctantly,
Leaving the restless ocean behind.
The wind drums in my ears
This is your one and only chance.
I sense my breath keeping time with the wind,
I melt into the day moon.

The Bards Annual Anthology