worn cattle path
to the barn…
tracing my father’s steps
after the tornado
the sand castle
still standing
airplane mode…
powering down
for a nap
filling potholes
two construction workers
break for tea
Haiku in Action (June 24-28, 2026)
bouquet of lilies
on her shoulder
fading tattoo
caffeine detox
reading in slow motion
smashed-in mailbox —
putting up the campaign sign
again
Frogpond, Issue #49.2 (2026)
returning home
to a draft notice
Independence Day
Frogpond, Issue #49.2 (2026)
sight enough
to make the next turn
new year’s fog
Frogpond, Issue #49.2 (2026)
granddad’s truck–
rain splashes
through the rust
Mayfly (Summer 2026)
rigor mortise and tenon his casket
Lost and Found: Haiku Society of America
Member Anthology (2026)
work calls
while walking the dog –
shadow of a leash
family cemetery
in a field of thistles
his first son
Presence, Issue #84 (2026)
thirty years gone
his grey hat
on the same hook
Presence, Issue #84 (2026)
salmon in the valley sunset
change of command –
the decorated colonel
wrangles his kids
day after Christmas
wrapping the nativity set
in swaddling clothes
Modern Haiku, Issue #57.2 (2026)
benediction
my brother quietly
closes the grave
Akitsu Quarterly (Spring/Summer 2026)
learning his kitchen
in the coffee grinder
coriander
Akitsu Quarterly (Spring/Summer 2026)
beneath the old church
a fallen hubcap
c o b b l e s t o n e s t r e e t
Presence, Issue #83 (2026)
unexpected
becomes unexpressed
autocorrect
summer’s end
entombed in deck chairs
a fallen monarch
tabletop cactus thirsty after a workout
salt and pepper
passed over candlelight
a long marriage
Haiku in Action (Jan. 28-Feb. 1, 2026)
snow day…
flurries
of emails
rusty tackle box
hand-tied flies unraveling
my grandfather’s memory
Mayfly, Issue #80 (Winter 2026)
autumn leaves…
an abandoned glove
in search of a mate
Modern Haiku (57.1 – 2026)
English cottage
solar panels reflecting
clouds
Presence, Issue #83 (2026)
chapel ruins…
in the cracks
dandelions
Presence, Issue #83 (2026)
mid-winter light
through stained glass
lifetime achievement award
red phone booth
now a defibrillator…
my phone buzzes
first workout in weeks
in the mirror
my ego
reflecting pool
a mallard swims
through our legs
flame in the foam
the cardamom latte
singes my tongue
Akitsu Quarterly (Fall/Winter 2025)
after the break-up
picking blueberries
from the kitchen floor
Akitsu Quarterly (Fall/Winter 2025)
late summer eve
a snail’s shell
on the slow walk home
Modern Haiku (56:3 – Autumn 2025)
empty swing
beneath the campus oak…
spring break
the groom’s tears
as she walks the aisle
summer rain
trouble parking a dream
Frogpond (Summer 2025)
empty pint glass
metabolizing
her memory
weighing
one
word
.
.
.
a
text’s
gravity