eyes closed at last
the world that had him in it
disappears
*
moonlit forest
the giant
my father was
*
empty house
the sounds a refrigerator makes
when it isn’t humming
In memoriam Bruce D. Bonta (1941-2021)
moonlit forest
Tag: night
insomnia moon
an old face mask
in my coat pocket
a screech owl’s descending quaver
I forget who I am
Both the haiku and the photo are from last night, but I didn’t think to combine them until now. Screech owls have been calling every evening for the past three nights, perhaps prompted by the full moon. The photo is of the eastern red cedar which I planted next to the house 30 years ago and for some reason never expected to get quite so large. Last night I remembered there’s an ancient spotlight, at least as old as I am, that the tree has grown over, and I checked to see whether the bulb still works.
The font is called Frankfurter Venetian. It seems almost too perfect here.
heat lightning
the meadow’s whisper
of crickets
One of those haiku that really needs that space or punctuation in the semantic break. Written on the phone as I was walking back through our old field (hasn’t been plowed or planted in 50 years). Then I remembered that a) I had a flashlight, and b) the phone camera has a flash, so several minutes of photographic experimentation ensued. I did have to wait till I got back to the house in order to finish it up with GIMP on the laptop. The font is called Rage Italic for some damn reason. It’s certainly one of the most legible cursive fonts.
The crickets in question are mostly not the ones that go cheep cheep cheep but the ones that make a rattle-y kind of trill. I think the storm is going to miss us.
on a path
swallowed by forest
horned moon
Photo followed by the haiku ten minutes later, on a walk where I was given only rare glimpses of the crescent moon.
Four months away
even the full moon isn’t
where I left it
