Haiku

stripped trees
waver in the wind
sighing for spring

amidst the flurries
bits of sun stain
the still-green grass

a sunset second:
the world stops, lovers embrace,
old men sense their death

squirrels will praise me
for the crumbs
I leave behind

the soft touch of a
warm breeze caresses my face –
autumn? not quite yet.

motionless vultures
soar overhead, waiting for
food to wash ashore

the lake relentless,
slapping against the shoreline-
no earbuds required

a deep stillness
offered by the great lake’s
solemn silence

memories fading;
all but one – the clear light of
your deep sea-green eyes

midsummer sweet corn
the air pungent with the scent
of fading summer