Haiku

on Valentine's Day

an unexpected letter

fills up her shoulders

A Return

Replaced here like a restaurant knife
wrapped back in its starchy napkin,
I think of you saying,

"Once I was riding my bike late through Nova Scotia
and as the sun sank into the St. Lawrence,
I felt my fingers on my yellow disposable camera. But,
why record something so transcendent so cheaply?
I don't need this cheap vessel.
I can hold the memory long enough."

Haiku

an oak's thousandfold
naked, stiff branches blow

in the cold wind

Haiku

a crow's mouth opens
two hard, dry snowflakes fall

Haiku

Wet gold leaves
hug the road like travellers.
The trees all wear brown.

Morning Walk to Work

Rubber earphones
plugged into a dead battery
silence the dark
morning street.
From so many walks,
without looking I know
the exact phase
of the shining moon.

Above whirrs a weather
helicopter. The pilot
probably knows too.

Who else?