last breath


stretch skin taut with air
let go, release the south wind
our child now with God



For day two of 28 days of Self-Love Grace asked us to focus on mindful breathing and then to write a Haiku.

My little offering is filled with the pain of losing a loved one to cancer.  But, in the midst of grief and heartache, there is hope and mercy.  My friend wrote this: “Because Jesus is alive, Anthony is alive.  We rejoice in his release and healing.  He leaves a big hole in our hearts, but by grace this will be filled with God’s love and memories.”

Today, as I purposely breathed, with each breath I though of Anthony, painfully fighting for air.  There must be joy (mingled with sadness) in letting go.




living words leap about the page,
painting pictures of the world,
connecting seven point six billion dots.


ripe, ruby raspberries,
every plump corpuscle joined to the next —
a compound red-eye.


i hold your hearts as i once held your hands:
gently firm in wondrous awe, a sense of privileged honour
with boundless grace to balance massive debt.



2018 hit hard. I got knocked down.

Today begins 28 days of self-love
and I’m in, by the skin of my teeth, holding on for dear life!

Check out Day One where we are challenged to cultivate gratitude
and to create 3 Line Poems.



Life —
keeps kicking me around,
pushing me down,
handling me pickles on a silver plate,
telling me:
“You’re always too late!”

But I can wait,
‘cuz like rubber
I just bounce back up,
filling this cup
drop by drop
till it’s all filled up.



It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse.  (A Quadrille is a poem of 44 words – not including the title.)  De is hosting today and she asked us to use the word bounce.

Who Fills the Void

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she said,
“is like an empty pail.
There exists the possibility
of a draught of fresh, cool water,
but unless I get up and fill the chalice
I am thirsty and the vessel remains vacuous.”

he replied,
“I hear what you say.
But for just an instant
consider hope the water
and the barren basin is me.”

Quick contemplation
and then,
with wrinkled mouth and brow,
“In your picture,”
she returned,
“who fills the void?”

said he,
with a showman’s pause,
“That, then, is the question.”

Little Pigs

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Sticks and stones break things

if they’re thrown.  But they build

if they are planted.



a silly (or maybe not) little haiku

Connective Tissue



(photo by Sharon Knight @ sunearthsky.com  –  see notes below)

The universe throbs
sending impulses, one cell to the next
through billions and billions of bonds.

From lightning sky to tributaries,
from streaming tributaries to branches,
from xylem-brimmed branches to blood,
from arteried blood to dendrites.

Let’s join hands
and pass love letters in synapses,
till our hearts pulse as one,

from dendrites to blood,
blood to branches,
branches to tributaries,
tributaries to sky,

and let the whole of creation sing!





Mish is the host at dVerse today and she has introduced us to a most amazing artist, Sharon Knight. Today we are to choose ANY photo from Sharon Knight’s blog, Sunearthsky – Meditations from the Midwest.  allow it to take us in any direction and use the inspiration to write.  I chose the beautiful DENDRITES which you can see above.

Thank you, Mish, for the introduction. And, Sharon, thank you for sharing your beautiful photos and your life with us.



winter moon (fuyu no tsuki)

Winter in these parts is cold and dry. The sun may appear for a short journey low across the sky, but offers little in the way of real warmth. As the moon lazily waltzes over the night sky, she chuckles at the bitter landscape. No promise of warmth is offered from this indifferent reflector.

The ground becomes hard, the soil caked. The wild grasses, once emerald tall, crowned with plump seed-heads, turn to yellow-ochre straw and crumble in their brittleness. Many birds migrate to greener lands. But the Hadeda Ibis stays, continuing to probe the ground with its extended bill, looking for cricket larvae, creating dimples over the face of the land.

ibis endeavours
to break unforgiving earth
callous winter moon


summer moon (natsu no tsuki)

Through the sweltering summer days, the land gulps down the sultry showers. Then, in the steaming aftermath, most breathing creatures sit in shaded quiet, straining to catch a whispered breeze. If they move, they move labouriously, almost slo-mo swimming through the air.

The sun is relentless as it beats down, pounding upon heads. Even the shade, while a respite from the harsh light, is pummelled with stifling humidity. Everyone waits for the night, for a brief intermission. And when she comes, the moon, in all her hard coldness, gives her refrain sparingly.

still, the starling pants,
tarries for the first cool breath
the summer moon sighs



It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse and Victoria writes: “Today, I would like to see a brief non-fiction account of your experience related to Fuyu No Tsuki, the winter moon, followed by a Haiku that observes the standards of the form by including reference to a season.”

Unlike 90% of our brethren who dwell in the Northern Hemisphere, we “Southerners” are currently experiencing Summer.  I found it difficult to write a winter moon haibun, perspiration running down my back, sweat collecting over my brow.  I decided to pen a summer moon haibun as well, which feels more real to me.

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