And the Waters Live

Ghost riders no longer hover.
Train tracks dismantled long ago
phantom posts reveal their route. 

I did not mind their crossing,
if they could have glided silently
like parrot fish within my realms
or shape shifter clouds above.

It was the daily clatter,
metal wheels on transom
wide-open window chatter
reverberating rumbles.

I much prefer the quiet.
Hikers who gaze,
mesmerized by lapping waters,
sun glisten upon my face.

Occasional thunderstorms
pelt rain upon my scenic demeanor.
Rarer still, they apologize
reflecting rainbow arcs in smiles.


Posted for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where today Mish asks us to “give nature a voice.” Photo from Bermuda — along the Old Railway Trail. The Bermuda Railway operated from October 1931 until May, 1948. The hiking trail stops and starts on various parts of the islands that make up Bermuda — with ruins of stations, trestles, and roadcuts. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on by! 

Haibun Feast

We sat beside our daughter at a rough, hand-hewn table that stood on two-by-four legs. At the time, she was studying at the Hochshule fur Musik in Freiburg, Germany. We’d been invited to dinner by her fellow student, Christiana, who’d grown up in what was then East Germany. Christiana’s parents and brother were visiting. And so we joined them in her rural one-room rental, with access to bathroom and kitchen. We brought the wine.

The family served a simple meal on mismatched chipped plates. Wildflowers sat in a glass jug. No napkins. No English. And yet we laughed and spoke with our hands and eyes. At times, our daughter translated. I do not remember what was served, nor the aromas. I do remember the simplicity. The open and freely offered friendship across cultures. The sharing of so much more than food.

amidst weeping glaciers
debris fields give way to streams
wildlife quenches thirst


Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Toni asks us to write about one of the best meals we’ve ever had. Photo is of us during a glacier hike in Alaska. We eventually got to the foot of the glacier that, through its melting, creates this stream. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come share a meal with us! 

Alaska’s Crown

Traveling across the tundra, prayers of thanksgiving hover on my lips. You tower above glacial streams, fiddle heads, cranberry bogs, and mountain peaks. Athabaskans understand. You are the High One. Within your gaze, grizzlies roam. Caribou, Dall sheep, moose and marmots too. Gleaming sun and star scrim skies light your view. Oh Denali, you stand tall. Guardian of this hallowed land. 


Written for Day 1 of a 21 day challenge online course with my poetry mentor, Holly Wren Spaulding. Prompt: write a prose poem that includes an animal. Photo from our trip to Alaska that included the Denali National Park’s 12 hour Kantishna tour. At the time, this was officially Mount McKinley, but was always called Denali by Alaskans. One month after we returned home,  by executive order, President Obama officially renamed Mount McKinley, Denali. 

A Sharp Little Ditty

Harrison Hedgehog
all a dither
in a quiver,
over Patty Porcupine. 

How to propose?
The poetic one,
undone,
by a prickly giggly gal. 

A note, inside a balloon,
a quadrille.
Then with her own quill,
Patty will pop the question!


It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. De is tending bar and asks us to giggle today 😊. Forty-four words, not including the title, that include the word “giggle.”  I figure in our crazy world, it’s a good day for a silly little ditty! Photo is of Harrison Hedgehog,  in public domain.