25 October 2025 (atmospheric river)
Kristen Lindquist
atmospheric river
the length of the seal
rolls underwater
Book of Days
BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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24 October 2025 (pushing back)
Kristen Lindquist
pushing back my hood
to hear the kinglet . . .
rain-wet cedars
23 October 2025 (what the mountain does)
Kristen Lindquist
what the mountain does
with my subconscious
elk at twilight
22 October 2025 (short flight)
Kristen Lindquist
short flight to Boston
the beckoning frontier
of clouds
21 October 2025 (open carry)
Kristen Lindquist
open carry
a basket full
of boletes
20 October 2025 (a simple task)
Kristen Lindquist
a simple task takes all day wind chimes
19 October 2025 (the car ahead)
Kristen Lindquist
the car ahead
swerves to miss a robin
autumn sumacs
18 October 2025 (milkweed drift)
Kristen Lindquist
milkweed drift . . .
flame-red maples frame
an empty cow pasture
17 October 2025 (scattered red leaves)
Kristen Lindquist
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!
16 October 2025 (wan autumn light)
Kristen Lindquist
wan autumn light . . .
an old Glenwood stove
through the farmhouse window
15 October 2025 (passing heron)
Kristen Lindquist
passing heron —
the old farmhouse windows
boarded up