30 November 2025 (stick season)

stick season

should i have had

children

21 November 2025 (last leaves)

last leaves falling . . .

a barge slowly pushes

up the bay

16 November 2025 (scarves of mist)

scarves of mist . . .

gold of a tamarack

at the bog’s edge

7 November 2025 (burnished fields)

burnished fields before the snow buntings

6 November 2025 (grey day)

grey day

a crow noses around

in the leaf pile

1 November 2025 (autumn leaves)

autumn leaves acknowledging the crow’s caws

19 October 2025 (the car ahead)

the car ahead

swerves to miss a robin

autumn sumacs

18 October 2025 (milkweed drift)

milkweed drift . . .

flame-red maples frame

an empty cow pasture

17 October 2025 (scattered red leaves)

scattered red leaves

vote yes

on question one

Just to be clear, this haiku is using poetic license. If you are in Maine, I hope you will actually vote NO on question 1, which, if voted in, will make it harder for people to vote!

17 November 2024 (i start the raking)

i start the raking

where my neighbor finished . . .

sun on birch trunks

12 November 2024 (a wasp nest)

a wasp nest

that was there all along

wind rattles fallen leaves