the worst part of waiting
is rehearsing every possible scenario
five thousand times

a life incredible, vivid, excellent.
the worst part of waiting
is rehearsing every possible scenario
five thousand times
if i had to say what i am
i would not be the wandering star-child
nor the thorn-encumbered rose
sometimes i forget that we age.
i have seen green girls grow laugh lines
and traced the silver glinting in boys’ unruly curls …
and so here i sit
writing sad haiku while some-
where you are sleeping
when my insufficiencies are too much with me,
i remember the sun-sparkling dew drops
in the cups of the columbine leaves
and remember again to breathe.
the redbud is shedding petals
over the poppy bed like an excited flower girl,
bright fuchsia buds caught on soft fuzzy leaves.
hail bounced like popcorn
on the pavement, frozen for
only a moment
my personal theory is that Heaven
looks a lot like Northern Ireland,
where thorny gorse blooms golden
on the rugged hills
the forsythia has been slow to bloom this spring,
green leaves creeping up its tangled branches
and unfurling with no sign of flowers at all.
the butter-yellow tulip
has now faded to cream,
streaks of rose gracing
the pale petals as they
bend back toward the earth.