Waning Moon

waning moon
mother stops eating
ice cream

Prune Juice
July 2017



Great Uncle

I am four or five. It is warm and the fragrance of the blooming privet hedge tickles my nose. Visiting Grandma, which happens often, she lives only blocks from our house, my mother’s Uncle Willie is at home when we arrive. He is old with a surprisingly full head of gray hair and a round, fat belly. He always makes us laugh and today he is taking my sister and me for an ice cream cone.

the soft feel of chalk
on my hands

As we set out on our stroll, Uncle Willie holds each of us by the hand. He is walking slowly and there is no reason for my short legs to hurry. As we amble, his grip tightens on our hands until we squeal with delight. We know the game. He will not stop squeezing until we say, ‘uncle.’ We play this game until we arrive at the soda fountain.

church bells
just the right amount
of music at noon

I try to eat my ice cream quickly, before it drips down my arm. It is a losing battle and Uncle Willie helps keep it from getting messy. I taste the cold sweetness of Butter Pecan and the crunch of the sugar cone. I laugh and lick and lick and laugh. He teaches us how to push the ice cream down into the cone. I finish my cone and begin our walk back. In spite of sticky fingers, he holds my hand tightly and I giggle once more.

old elms fill the playground
with shade

Failed Haiku: A Journal of English Senryu

August 2016

OK. So. I’m. Intolerant.



how I must run for cover

when you shine


her tongue says yes

but her stomach says no

to ice cream


walking away

from bigoted conversation

zero tolerance


©2013 Wabi Sabi

For Carpe Diem ‘intolerance’  I am finding the prompts  this month very challenging.  I have no shortage of commentary on the nuances of these words.   However, a comment does not a haiku make!  Still, I offer up my poems – haiku or not – for your perusal.  Thank you for reading!