Fine day for walking;
we shake off the detritus
of a somber day,
and chase the sun down the trail
with the dog dawdling behind.

Unseasonable,
the invigorating cold.
The new moon kisses
clouds that scud across the sky
as night falls and the wind dies.

Look briefly away
and the foliage rises up. 
The shrubs overtake
the windows and the walkways.
Time to wrangle the garden.

A house finch couple
has made a nest in the shrub
that stands tall beside
the feeder and the window,
entertainment for Felix.

Brown bird in the rain
perches on the bird feeder,
then flits to shelter
beneath the weeping cherry.
Canopy of summer green.

This year’s long wet spring
was kind to the fragile flowers
that don’t like the heat.
Lamium maculatum
wraps itself against the stairs.

The magnificence
of the oak tree at sundown
counterbalances
deer at hedge in morning sun
bookends to a summer’s day

I’m not really sure how three months have gone by since I’ve posted anything on this blog. In the interim we said goodbye to a kitty, worked A LOT, and life happened, too fast, too much, some days. But I do much better when I have some kind of a prompt that encourages me to write. So I’m challenging myself to a new format of a poem, much as I did my haikus last September. For the month of June, I plan to write a daily tanka,  a Japanese poetry format consisting of 31 syllables in five lines—in a 5,7,5,7,7 pattern. The form allows for more emotion than a haiku.  So tomorrow it begins. 

The spring moon followed us along the ridge, pale and cold, shaking the last shroud of winter off her shoulders.  

The winter sun sets on a full season’s snowfall, which arrived all at once, a week ago. Snow glows pink at dusk as the birds go to ground.