autumn haiku

suffused by wood smoke
cascading leaves of saffron
birches bowed by wind



[no title]

magic lurks
in the space between fragility
and resiliency. A living
being, an uncertain
future, exhaustion, the refusal
to quit. One breath, one phone call
one bite at a time-
a constant tension
impossible to ignore
the strike
of the clock that stands
by the door
impossible to ignore,
impossible to ignore.
the strength of her hands
once inconsequential
impossible to ignore impossible
to ignore impossible to

from the second floor, leaning over the banister

How many times
did I stand
at the top
of those stairs,
listening to one-sided
phone conversations,
trying to assign
names and faces to pronouns
to determine a subject:
someone I knew? or, better yet, me?
Eavesdropping on secrets,
confessions, predictions- most of them riddles,
but sometimes a name or a phrase would stand out
and my rapt little ears would
savor, devour, chew
and consider and store it away. This is
a reminder to self of how easily
words can tear holes
in the fabric of love
and to expand the definition
of improvisation
to include ‘to parent’
as a common synonym.