Now that I am giving
my mother’s cat
her fluids
every day
I look for
and savor
even more
the mornings when
her head feels sturdy
underneath my hand
or like yesterday
when she trotted off
down the hall—
buoyant.
Trie (46)
2
Bird Bath (45)
The white-crowned sparrow
dunks his head
again and again
in the fresh bird water
all fluff and delight
an honor
to sit here
in my courtyard
watching.
What beats this?
Clinging? (44)
And another haiku-ish thing
just to apologize
to you
my dear readers
for inundating you
in my (silly?) hope
of still posting
63 while I am 63.
(Yes, I am counting
this one, too.)
Spontaneous Combustion? (43)
“For God’s sake,” Biden says
“this man cannot remain in power.”
I don’t have all the details
(unwise, maybe, for a president)
but it makes me like him more.
Midmorning Snack (42)
This time I don’t see the insects
(gnats, maybe? no-see-ums?)
but twice
I watch
the lizard dart across the gray cement
in my corner of my mother’s back yard.
Dart and gobble.
Dart and gobble.
It makes me happy for him.
How did I live so long
among lizards
without ever seeing this?
Like Playing Hooky (41)
This cold, steady rain
so needed
sparks glee in me
back in bed
with my tea.
In Solidarity (40)
These bands of blue and yellow
must be Ukraine’s flag, I think
when I see them
in the Lalo Alcaraz strip today
How do we sit
inside ourselves
with this?
(How do we fit inside our skin?)
No Holds Barred 