garden club the daylilies meet by the roadside

summer territory the drones of cottonwood drifting by

solstice the floodwaters regain their strength

red wasp in the house my anxiety level ramps up a notch

rush hour traffic vultures circling overhead

firefly hitting the windshield how many die like this

fireworks in june the blues finally win the stanley cup

noise ordinance the blue jay in violation

purple storm clouds the city streets marred by violence

roommate sawing logs my morning eyes feel gritty

found haiku, cont.

pottery shop dust a young sales clerk with her arm in a cast

old weather vane spots of rust on a black horse

green fields and clouds of sheep painted on a watering can

halloween makeup only his eyes stay the same

2 a.m. at denny's the cook tapping out jingle bells with a spoon

locating a star I use the span of my hand to measure the sky

kimmswick trolley 3 clangs away from empty seats

bernadette on my bookmark the closest I've been to a saint

demoted to the sale shelf an angel with one wing

summer heat you know it's a funny thing he says without smiling

in through the out door because it's open

yellow moon I don't need a beer to feel good

junk mail the stick nest of wrens in the bluebird's house

candles and flashlights the scent of rain all around us

thunderstorm warning our house a blue dot in the red zone

brain fog my eyes a bloodshot roadmap of everything I've read