First Haibun of 2023

January takes us to San Diego, California for two months. We trade in Boston’s winter for sunshine, temperatures in the sixties and seventies, and enjoy living in a small apartment rental. It will be our fourth year so we no longer feel like tourists. With our Senior pass in hand, we ride the buses and take commuter trains and trolleys around the city like seasoned San Diegans. Shopping at the local farmers market for fresh fruits and vegetables and fresh fish is a favorite Sunday pastime. And of course, that turns into delicious dinners in our home-away-from-home. We especially enjoy strolling the coastline, weekly visits to the world renowned San Diego Zoo, and listening to live outside concerts at Balboa Park.

So here’s to leaving our down jackets, wool hats and mittens behind and boarding the plane on January fifth. California, here we come!

snoozing burly bear
wakes up energized by sun
lumbers out to play

Kim welcomes us back to dVerse and asks us to write about what January means to us, in this first haibun of 2023. Photo is from the San Diego Zoo last year.


Luscious dimpled red,
capped by emerald-leafed crowns.

Thumb and forefinger
pinch greenery,
slowly bring to mouth.

Eyes dilate.
Yearning at first sight
turns to absolute delight.

Sweetness explodes.
Taste sublime
brings smile divine.

Nectar-trickle escapes lips
stains white linen,
evidence of fulfilled lust

IMG_2854 (2)
Fulfilled hides the prompt word fill
Photo taken as we brought these amazing strawberries home from the Hillcrest Farmers Market in San Diego. Poem written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De asks us to include the word, or a form of the word, “fill” in our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! 

Waiting for Spring Tending

The small San Diego garden plot lies waiting. Remains stripped bare from summer past. Green straggling leggy vines meander over and under blunt-cut branches of a now anonymous plant. Dried tall corn stalks stand in leaning stance, blown by winds or simply bent from lack of care once the cobs were picked.

Long woody stems are capped by dry flower tops, their name a mystery to me. Brown scaled outer shell still holds tight to popped open pods. Each pod is perhaps six inches across and contains what looks like spiderweb short wisps of silken threads. I am smitten by these long-past-their-prime blooms and try to capture their beauty in photos – some in monotone black and white, others in their natural earth like tones. I am sad to know these plants, beautiful in their drying state, will soon be cleared as new seed is sown.

migratory bird
transports dried seed in plumage
beauty travels far

Photos taken Saturday, on a walk through the beautiful campus of San Diego State University. We came upon a small garden plot by the art buildings. It was obviously left untended until spring, when it will be cleared and replanted.

Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Frank asks us to write about the coming spring. Haibun: two or three tight paragraphs of prose (must be true) followed by a haiku that invokes a season.