Setting Of October’s Super Moon: Haiku
I’m cross-posting these poems in my CyranoWriter.com creative writing blog.

I’m cross-posting these poems in my CyranoWriter.com creative writing blog.

I sit deep in my deciduous and cedar woods, shaded, sweltering in the hot afternoon Georgia heat. The still air, like an open oven, stifles me. I must escape. But just as I start to rise, a cool breeze starts from the creek bottom below, racing across the newly-mown fields. Wind rushes like a cresting…
We need to get outside, to breathe fresh air, to see the sun, to feel nature. There was a time, when I worked at Microsoft near Seattle, where I never saw the sun. Even now, memories of sitting in a closet-like room with no windows, where I had to walk out a door and look…
Hi, my deep-rooted/ woods friends. I’m sad I’ve not been/ near. I’ll tread barefoot.
It is often so/ that when we clear dross and junk,/ we find wonderful. Using a loping shears to clear underbrush and non-native privet from around the hardwood trees in my back yard reveals an undergrowth of black-eyed susans and other hidden wildflowers. Sometimes you have to burn the grasses and weeds from large fields,…
The fields are bursting brightwith wildflower’d colors:Purple,red,orange,yellow,blue,white. I didn’t know.I missed the wildflower show.It’s tragic what you don’t see,hear,smell,taste,feel,when you lockyourself inside. I’m not surprised,nor mad.Just a little sad,yet gladI soon enough realizedthe wildflower blissI might havecompletely missed. I’ll do better.
When the Old Woman of the Woods Calls The morning dawned only slightly humid and a bit cool for Northwest Georgia in August, perfect for a walk in the woods. My paths usually run through cedars and smaller trees on my property. On this particular morning it was clear: The Old Woman of the Woods…