
the sun through the trees
lovely warmth upon my skin
while junkos fly past
My evening walks have been a key element of my sanity during these trying times. The weather’s been lovely, so this walk has been truly wonderful.
Biz Admin Who Loves Technology
I started writing haiku in my junior high creative writing class. After high school, though, when I started studying the Beat Poets, and Kerouac in particular, my fondness for this art form grew. I tend to focus mostly on the 5-7-5 style, but occasionally I explore further.

the sun through the trees
lovely warmth upon my skin
while junkos fly past
My evening walks have been a key element of my sanity during these trying times. The weather’s been lovely, so this walk has been truly wonderful.

Ok, this is not a haiku nor a poem. I hope you can forgive the deviation from my norm. Today I read a piece by Seattle writer Angela Garbes. It resonated deeply with me, so I wanted to share with you, my friends.
Published in the Seattle Met, “As Seattle Grew, I grew Up” mirrors my own experience. I, too, spent my ‘feral 20s’ wandering Capitol Hill, where I lived the better part of 10 years of my life. Seeking the urban as a cyclist seeking a car-free life, and the vibrancy I imagined coming with concrete. Years making mostly minimum wage, yet able to survive. Gentrification just starting to squeeze. I being able to rise up the wage rungs quickly enough to stay above the flood waters of economic calamity.
My revisits come filled with memories. Oh, “this was here”, and “that was there”. Then “what WAS here”? Memories combine with memory’s absence; strange feelings, ones that I’m not quite used to.
“Cities are meant to change”. Seattle’s changed, quite a bit. Driving home how time has passed, how much older I’ve become. Things I’m not quite ready to accept, so they keep rearing up. Such is the way of things I guess.
Well, I’ll finish with a haiku: it’s what my soul wants.
these old concrete walks
echoing my youth’s footsteps
urban memories
in this time of rage
invective traded like cash
poetry’s my peace
Checked Twitter this morning. So much rage. I’m not sure there’s not anyone without veins bulging nor invective dripping from their lips, a poison so sweet, so deadly.
I’m glad I have this little garden on the internet, where I can delight in life and growth, not what’s been burned beyond recognition.
Today’s Word of the Day challenge is “bosom”.
now hold each other
clutch children to our bosom
the world’s mad with rage

Today’s Word of the Day challenge is “Acid“. I found this pretty challenging. Finally, I came up with the notion below.
like a strong acid
such a corrosive people
crafting so much pain
My contribution to today’s Word of the Day Challenge: Sand. I, being me, opt for a haiku.
memories of sand
I love the smell of the beach
the winds from the west
raindrops on petals
the bees now seeking shelter
spots on my glasses
my evening walk
solace in quarantine
bees unperturbed
This photo called to me for a haiku, and I was delighted to oblige.
the sun slips below
warm blazing orange blankets
when will the stars dance?