B o u g a i n v i l l e a T r i n i t y

                   Go ahead . . .

          show your three-partite
                bracts to the sun.

                 Delight the eye.

                       Fade . . .

                    then spiral
                   earthbound.

                Solar-powered
                    pinwheels.

WHITE

Cimicifuga
     still in bloom - even though the 
           calendar says mid-November.
     It's startlingly sweet fragrance
           commands attention.

When the breeze is just so . . . 
     neighbors walk over into our
           garden to
     seek out what
           smells that way.

Baneberry's reddish stalks, 
      adorned with white eyes and
             tiny black pupils, 
      appear to be on the search for
             their former neighbors -

      recently frost-bitten.

Plants with ever-new potential -
             but, at least for now,
      calmly await

             the white flakes of winter.

S O S A D

Can't forget 19 days of
   totally grey, overcast sky.

Curiosity won over waiting
   but only at first.

How long can this go on?
   Is this what SAD* is
      all about?

Is the world
   broken?

It wasn't that there wasn't a
   total absence of blue.

Once in a while, a jay would
   wildly fleet through,
      stopping only to
         harass a few winter creatures
            that frequent our back garden.

All of a sudden, following the
   456 hours of grey-
       the sky parted
          just a bit to
             show blue.

Only to swiftly shrink away and
   close up.

Not until
   nearby neighbors
      rushed into the street - pointing
         away from the earth.

I joined them.

Together, we surmised whether or
   where blue would be
      seen again.

I wished it would return.

Wherever it went
   I will surely wish
      to follow.

Is it too much to have hope it
   would linger until
      the Killdeer
         call again?


                              *Seasonal Affective Disorder

Tres bien

We so needed
the rain.

And - it came
in the night.

Gentle.

Over
an inch.

Very good, very
well.

Excellent.

Barn Swallow Hirundo rustica

Swooping,
graceful, low,
flowing flight -
almost always
water nearby.

Deeply forked
tail streamers,
spotted with white.
Dark metallic-blue
upper parts with
chestnut-red forehead
and throat.

A half-cup nest
build of mud and grass
hidden under
eaves of buildings
or under bridges.

One April -
I was out of town,
and found Barn Swallows

in Peru.            

LATE SPRING (haiku)

A brisk wind, blue sky
Cottonwood seed fluffs make friends
with scattered, white clouds.

P A T I E N C E

I have come to Southern Chile's
Ortway Bay, seeking
Magellanic Penguins.

I walk the weathered,
wooden boardwalk
toward the sea,
            just beyond carpeted grasslands.

High-tide waves
                    crash nearby.

There they are - among
bleached driftwood and the
continually battered boulders.

Nestled together -
cluster of young penguins,
attired in rock-grey and dull white.

Standing in patient silence.

They await an inborn urge to
venture into krill-rich waters -
and the risk of
being snatched up by roving,
hungry seals.

As night falls,
the young penguins
return to the security of
their birthing burrows.

Bougainvillea Trinity

Bougainvillea Trinity

                  Go ahead . . .

         show your three-partite
              bracts to the sun.

               Delight the eye.

                       Fade . . .

                   then spiral
                  earthbound.

               Solar-powered
                    pinwheel.



-The Bougainvillea is such an unusual vine.
 What you would assume to be its flowers . . .
  are actually colorful bracts. (The flowers are
  tiny and hardly to be seen.) Our Bougainvillea
  vines are in pots and we move them outside to
  grace the deck in the spring, summer, and fall.
  Then, it's back inside for the winter.

Never At A Loss

    Why is it so rare
      for a person to
     starve, while at
         the beach?

   They can always
            eat the

sand which is
       there.

F a k e r s

Twaats can be fake,
     tweets are fake, but
          twiits are not fake -

                most of the time.

There can be
     fake twoots . . .
           fake twuuts.

I know all of the above
     for sure,
            because
                I've seen a
                     thing or two.

One thing is for sure . . .
     and Rene' Decartes*
             would never lie,

I think, therefore I am.


                     *Rene' Descartes (1596-1650), philosopher and
                                  mathematician, is regarded as the originator of
                                  modern philosophy and for defining a starting
                                  point for existence . . .
                                                      I think, therefore I am.
                                               

Why Breathe?

Breathing in,
     breathing out.
          28,800 cycles
                on a good day.
Not boring -
     in the least.

A Dozen Roses to Remove Winter Darkness

Where will they show up next?
The vase of cut roses moved
from room to room.
They are of the lightest pink with
an added delicate sprig
of Baby's Breath.

Oh, there they are - over by
the window in the garden room
where we eat breakfast.

     Wrong!

Those are blooms of the pink
bougainvillea vine brought inside
for the winter.

Their tri-partite bracts, a trinity of grace . . .
a reminder of the words "I Love You."
And always will,
my sweetheart.

Now,
where are those roses anyway?
Oh, there they are! Next to the clock
on the dresser by our bed.

Tonight, in the dark,
I will gently wake you -
and shine a little flashlight
on the bouquet,

so we see them
together.

LAKE SUPERIOR SNOWFALL

Early morning snow -
fresh flakes fall gently,
knitting networks
of lace.

Jewel-fluff blankets.

A slightest puff
would pilfer their
myriad connections.

Afar off,
other snowflakes
melt seamlessly into
the immense, leaden lake.

In the quiet
stillness,
a raven
calls.

Early December

Soaring eagle
       slides by in
                the wind.
     
       Grey sky.
                River nearby.

Deferred

                             Deferred

End of November comes
     to northern Minnesota.
An amazingly warm wind
     caresses the tail, tan
           grass-clumps.

Grass that greet
     passersby with
           its graceful wave.

A slight morning rain,
     dampens the green lawn.

My desire is to
     mow the grass -
           one more time . . .

just to say that I
      did it.

But, will defer
      till later
            in the spring.

                       I sure miss
                             real winter.

W h i t e

Cimicifuga
   still in bloom - even though the
        calendar says mid-November.
   It's startlingly sweet fragrance
        commands attention.

When the breeze is just so . . .
   neighbors walk over into our
        garden to
   seek what
        smells that way.

Baneberry's reddish stalks,
   adorned with white eyes and
        tiny black pupils,
   appear to be on the search for
        their former neighbors -

   recently frost-bitten.

Plants with ever-new potential -
        but, at least for now,
    calmly await

        the white flakes of winter.

The Eyes Have It

Thunbergia along the
edges of a Kenyan
jungle where corn
fields adjoin
wilderness.

Peering from
within wild places -
yellow eyes with
dark pupils
return my gaze,
staring back at me.

Each year, I plant
the Thunbergia vines
in the deck planter.
A reminder
of beautiful flowers
in beautiful
places.

A GENTLE WINTER WIND MEDITATION

When will real
winter arrive?

Fall leaves,
reluctant to leave
their branches -
clinging beyond
welcome.

    Leaves, come on now, drop!

Stop hanging around, the
soil needs you - you have
done your bit
for this season.

     Leaves, come on now, drop!

Your chlorophyll has had
its time in the sun -
and has done what it does best.
Petiole's abscission layers
have matured.

      Leaves, come on now, drop!

All that is left is

           to
              be
                  in
                     the
                         moment.

       Leaves, come on now, drop!

Ahh . . . a gentle wind
picking up . . . just now.
More leaves
take flight.

       Leaves, come on now, drop!

To Act or Not to Act . . .

To Act or Not to Act . . .

          Away with
               laziness.

                     Exercise.

          Away with
               demons.

                     Exorcise.

Amazing

Amazing
                             (Haiku, 17 syllables)

The North Korean's
very first 5th nuclear test ! ! !
Practice makes  p r e f e c t !